


i've been burdened by the dream (now i want to run)

by Mauisse_Flowers



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Gen, Non-Meta Barry AU, Self-Insert
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-10
Updated: 2018-09-26
Packaged: 2019-01-31 16:56:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 26,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12686247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mauisse_Flowers/pseuds/Mauisse_Flowers
Summary: When Hannah realizes she was in Central City the night of the Particle Accelerator Incident, it only made sense to go warn Barry about Harrison Wells.Now she's the Flash instead of Barry.





	1. to run (under the stars of orion)

**Author's Note:**

> AU Inspired by my other work Willful Kismet (doesn't need to be read to understand this). Title is from Delta Rae's Run.

* * *

 

Hannah wakes up with a raging headache and cotton mouth, tasting sandpaper and water left in the sun in a plastic bottle far too long. She reaches up to wipe at her mouth, thinking she might have drooled, and winces as pain shoots up her arm from her right hand. She sits up, head swimming and she clenches her eyes closed to keep from throwing up.

“You’re awake!”

Hannah jumps, cracking open her eyes to see a pretty, chestnut haired woman in a lab coat come gliding through a glass doorway. She blanches, stomach roiling, as she realizes there’s beeping machinery and there’s an IV line in her hand. There’s a heart rate checker on her middle finger, and she can hear her heart rate picking up.

“Whe-where am I?”

“You’re at STAR Labs.” The woman explains, moving to begin taking the IV out, first by disconnecting the cord from the needle. “I’m Dr. Caitlin Snow.”

Her head swims, trying to understand. “Star?” She mumbles, throat raw. “But…” She knows she’s swaying in the bed, especially when Dr. Snow pauses to look at the teenager, concerned and stern. “That’s _fictional_.”

“We are very real, ma’am.” Caitlin responds, careful as she hooks the IV back. “I think we should keep you on the fluids a little while longer.”

“Was I…” Hannah blinks, slow, gives a soft moan of pain or tiredness. “In an accident?”

“Yes. A very bad one.” Dr. Snow explains, gentle. “Can you tell me who you are? You’ve been in a coma for nine months and we don’t know who you are. You said you were Linda Park in the precinct’s logbook but…”

“Hannahlee.” She blinks when she notices people in the doorway, probably having followed Dr. Snow. An older man in a wheelchair and a shrewd expression, a man with longish hair and a twizzler and a bright grin, and a lanky, gangly man who looks unsure of his placement. Too many men. “M-McCullough. Daughter of Andrew McCullough and Dawn McCullough neé Britt. Born October 22, 19-years-old.” She frowns. “You can call me Hannah. It’s easier.”

Her eyes drift back to Dr. Snow. “What happened? Did I get hit by a car? Why aren’t…” She licks her dry lips, finds it doesn’t help since she has a dry mouth. “What’s going on?”

“Despite your body burning through the morphine amazingly fast, you aren’t lucid despite the lack of pain medication.”

Her nose wrinkles at Dr. Snow’s words. “What?”

“What Dr. Snow is trying to say is that you haven’t woken up fully yet, and your body burns through morphine like it doesn’t exist.” The man in the wheelchair explains as he comes closer and Hannah’s mind suddenly recognizes him. Her mouth opens in an “o” shape, eyes big.

“You’re Tom Cavanagh!”

His eyebrows raise, curiosity and confusion warring against suspicion on his face.

“I’m Dr. Harrison Wells, Ms. McCullough. You seem to have me mistaken with someone else.”

“No.” She shakes her head, pushing into a sitting up position even as Dr. Snow tries to force her back. “No. I- I know this scene. It’s…” Hannah blinks several times, confused as she looks over at the awkward brunette. “You’re Grant Gustin, you play Barry Allen on _The Flash_. Why-” She curls over, pressing her palms into her forehead. “Why am I… What’s going on?”

_Hannah blinks at the sudden change in the lighting, looking at the setting sun and busy city streets. She turns, expecting to find Amber just behind her, talking about the plans for the next part of the campaign. Instead there’s an alley stretching out behind her, with a dumpster and trash cans. The woman feels out of place and unsettled._

_She exits the mouth of the alley, hoisting her purse up on her shoulder and looking at the people all around her. English, American accents. Urban city. She pauses, looks around, realizes the streets look familiar._

_She spins, looking around her, realizing this was the same street she’d seen on_ The Flash _when Barry Allen had gone back in time the first time, back before Mark Mardon had destroyed Central City. But in the day time. It’s a strange sense of déjà vu. Stranger to be in the scene._

_Hannah blanches, just a little, then moves, looking for a newspaper or something to tell her the date and place. Anything._

_Her answers are found in a newspaper till. She crouches down, glad to be in jeans, and reads the article talking about the unveiling of the S.T.A.R. Labs Particle Accelerator that evening at seven o’clock. The day is December 23_ _rd_ _, 2013._

_Her stomach buckles, churns, doing something that has her standing and pressing her hand over her mouth, rushing to find a place to throw up._

_She’s crying and there’s someone asking if she’s okay, an older woman. Hannah doesn’t know how to voice that she just found out her entire world was turned upside down in a half hour. She hiccups out a lie, struggling to get herself back under control._

_“Sweetie, why not I-“_

_She backs away from the stranger, shaking her head._

Gotta be a dream _, she thinks._ That hazta be it. Memory issues is why I can’t remember getting home.

 _“I’m fine.” She denies, and runs._ I’ll have to make this work. It’s a dream. Just a dream. All a goddamn dream.

_She trips, of all fucking things to do, and slams into the sidewalk. Her hands get scraped up and her knees are screaming and the idea of this being a dream goes flying out the window. For a moment, she forgets how to breathe, has to suck and suck and suck and can’t seem to get the air with how tightly her lungs have welded themselves together, and then she is wheezing outwards. Her head hangs down between her shoulders and she’s half-crying half-heaving._

Fuck, fuck, fuck. What the fuck do I do?

_“Miss?”_

_“Is she alright?”_

_“She tripped and just started crying.”_

_“Poor thing…”_

I need away from here.

The memory snaps into place and she flinches, hands curling into fists against her forehead. She shivers violently in the bed, feels wet heat pool under her eyelids.

_Eventually, painfully, Hannah gets herself under control. She sits in the park, wiping away tears and ruined foundation, knowing eventually she’ll need to find a bathroom that has paper towels to wipe away the streaked mess and fix her eyeliner and mascara._

_She has forty-two dollars in bills, three in change, and 28 cents. She has a useless debt card, Social Security Card, driver’s license, military ID, and school ID. The only thing useful is the hard cash and her knowledge this is real, that she’s really in the motherfucking_ Arrowverse _._

_She’s also in need of mouthwash after throwing up. And wishes she could just go to Barry Allen, tell him what was wrong, and get him to take her home. But the Particle Accelerator hasn’t even exploded yet and, with that in mind, she wouldn’t have a viable way home for three years, give or take a couple agonizing months._

_Spot must be out of his mind, worried about her and thinking she’d abandoned him. What a silly dog._

_Hannah’s teeth dig into her cheeks, sucking on them and clenching her eyes to stave off the tears that continue to well up and dribble down her face. She shudders, gasps out harshly, and curls forward._

“This,” she hiccups. “ _This._ ”

“’This’?” Dr. Snow- _Caitlin “Queen of my Heart” Snow_ \- asks gently, hand settling on her shoulder. “What’s ‘this’?”

_She asks for the nearest police station, hopes to god it’s the right one, and follows the directions given to her. Along the way she gets lost twice, has to turn around and hope she isn’t about to get even more lost. When she gets to the precinct, she asks for Barry Allen._

_Hannah can’t get him to help her, but she can warn him about Dr. Harrison Wells/Eobard Thawne/Reverse-Flash before trying to get a job and settle in. It’s all she can do until she has a way home. If Dr. Martin Stein wasn’t about to fuse with Ronnie Raymond and if Harrison Wells wasn’t Eobard Thawne, she may have asked for help._

_The idea of getting a ticket to Starling City isn’t overlooked, but Team Arrow would be useless over this kind of thing. She’s going to be alone. So alone._

_Hannah smiles as nicely as she can when the man at the desk says Barry is in his lab. She asks if she can go see him, lies about being a friend of Iris’s and Barry’s and how he won’t pick up the phone. The guy eyes her a moment, assessing her threat level, then passes her the logbook. Hannah signs herself in as Linda Park._

_“Thanks!” She gives her brightest, squeakiest voice, then heads up the stairs. She nearly gets lost then, too, but pauses and takes a breath, before heading down the hall. Outside, she can hear thunder rumbling, thinks she hears the crackle of lightning. Hannah picks up the pace, not running but definitely jogging._

_“Barry!” She calls as she reaches the doorway, and he looks up, surprised._

_“Uh,” he’s halfway to the chain for the windows above his lab, blinking at her, “do I know you?”_

_“No. You don’t.” She assures, entering the room, knowing she has no time to be shy. “Barry, my name’s- no, that doesn’t matter.” Hannah changes route, reaching him and looking up at him as he awkwardly steps back, keeping space between them. She clenches her hands, unclenches them, repeats as she talks. “Nine months from now you’re going to wake up with powers and you’re going to work with the people at S.T.A.R. Labs. You need, you need to be worried about Harrison Wells. He isn’t what he seems. He, he’s,” she struggles for words, can taste ozone and smoke on her tongue._

_She turns, sees on the shelves the water and solutions and various chemicals rising out of their containers. Her skin tingles and she can_ feel _it. How she’s somehow made an egregious mistake. Hannah’s head snaps back around, staring at Barry who’s looking in surprise at the liquid, and she’s backpedaling, getting his attention. She's talking, fast as she can without her tongue tripping, “Barry, don’t tell Wells I talked to you. I don’t exist. I have to-“_

_Most say your life flashes before your eyes when you’re about to die. They say the split second before you leave you see all your greatest triumphs and regrets._

_Hannah, when she hears the spine-tingling boom of thunder and the news anchor in the background yelling about the Particle Accelerator going critical, doesn’t see her life coming to the forefront. She doesn’t think of all her biggest regrets as the crackle of electricity arcs across the sky and hits_ her _, instead of Barry Allen, who’s thrown back and looks every bit as surprised as she feels. Hannah just wishes, desperately, that she’d live to see her friends and family, to be able to hold and hug Spot again, to tell Noemi and the Girls and Ladies, her Dad and aunt and uncle and brother, that she loved them. And know she absolutely meant it._

_Hannah just wants to go home._

“This wasn’t supposed to happen.” She cries, a strangled noise made of jagged bones and shattered glass. “I wasn’t-” Nine months of her life, gone. Nine months she could have spent trying to find an alternative way home and instead she’d been stuck in S.T.A.R. Labs in a bed, becoming what Barry Allen was supposed to be. “I wasn’t supposed to _be here_.”

Cisco is the one to make the sound of commiseration. “Girl, we all weren’t supposed to be here.”

Hannah looks up, glaring at him. Anger wells up and she watches him take a step back in surprise, but she just as quickly deflates, choking on pain. “I’m not from this universe, Cisco.”

“Well,” he swallows, looking properly surprised. “That, uh, explains things. Like the valid SSC, driver’s license and military ID that were impossible forgeries.”

“No shit.” She hiccups.

“Also, what the hell is your password? Computer _and_ phone.” Cisco asks. “I’ve been trying to get in for months. I would have hacked if I wasn’t worried the Computer That Doesn’t Exist Yet was going to wipe itself.”

“I’ll tell you later.”

Cisco pouts.

It’s all overwhelming. She needs time alone. Hannah needs to be able to think straight. This isn’t exciting for her. This is _terrifying_. She hates it.

“Can I, can I be alone? For a little bit?” She requests of the room at large, still crying and voice still garbled. “I can’t think or breathe.”

“Oh!” Caitlin steps back, and Dr. Wells ( _Eobard Thawne_ , her mind quietly whispers, making her flinch back, away from both people) moves to leave the room. “Of course. I’ll be in the Cortex in case there is an emergency. I went ahead and unhooked everything except the IV drip. You’ve been on nothing but fluids so you’ll need to be weaned on to solid foods.”

“Cait.” Barry calls, and the doctor looks Hannah over one last time, from head to foot, decides she must be fine, and heads for the door, shooing Cisco away as she does.

“There’s a wheelchair by the bed. Brakes already on. Just in case. You haven't experienced any muscle atrophy. You almost seems to have gone into a sort of stasis.” Caitlin adds quickly, then is gone.

* * *

Hannah doesn't need the wheelchair, and she knows why. She can feel it already, the electricity jumping through her veins, urging her to go faster, to push the limits, to be the fastest woman alive. It makes her hair stand on end and her skin crawl. Her toes curl against the cold linoleum floor, chilling her skin.

She comes into the Cortex on steady legs, IV drip unhooked because it was cumbersome and useless, arms wrapped around herself, burrowing into the warm sweatshirt and glad that, of everything she's lost, her pudge was somehow not among it. Her body felt cleaner than she could ever remember, her lungs felt clear of disease and flehm and second-hand smoke. Hannah felt like she could run more, like she didn't need to worry about running out of breath and wheezing half-to-death.

“So,” she says, staring at everyone, “uhm, hi?”

“I need you to go pee in this.” Caitlin explains, coming up with a small cup. “I need to run some tests on you and Detective West will be coming by to speak with you about the night of the explosion.”

“And arrest me, I guess?” Hannah mumbles.

“Nope.” Cisco wheels around, grinning brightly at her, clearly excited. Hannah can’t muster a smile. “He’ll maybe ask about who you are and why you don’t exist, but I think we’ll be fine once the whole universe thing is explained.”

Hannah bites her tongue, halfway out with the knowledge that it took watching Barry defeating Clyde Mardon with his speed in front of Joe to convince him that Barry was given powers.

 _Was_.

Her fingers wrap around the cup, tightening harshly. She exhales, closing her eyes. “Where’s the bathroom.”

“I’ll show you.” Barry offers, and Hannah can see Wells is halfway to speaking, cut-off by Barry unexpectedly. “It’s not far.”

“Thank you.” Hannah ducks her head, voice soft. “Can I get some water too? My throat is killing me.”

She thinks there may be a bit of humor in his voice when he next speaks. It, surprisingly, makes her feel a bit more comfortable despite the situation she’s stuck in. “Sure. We’ll stop by the mess hall.”

“Thanks.” He shows her to the bathroom, moving to stand opposite the doorway, leaning back against the wall.

She sets the pee cup on the counter, turning on the faucet with shaking hands. She bends, cupping her hands together to make a little bowl and fill it with cool water. She splashes her face a few times, getting water in her hair. She runs wet fingers through her hair- stringy, greasy, finely combed as she slept for _nine months_ \- and pats the rest away on the legs of her sweats before bracing her hands against the cool, granite counter. Hannah stares at herself in the mirror, with eyes that can see every droplet, each hair, her sight clear and clean. She wants to need to wear glasses, but knows that, now, she won’t. Not ever again.

Hannah snatches up the cup, turning and marching into the closest stall to avoid seeing just how good her eyesight has become.

She locks the stall and drops her pants, sitting just a little too far back so she can slip the cup under. For several minutes, trying to make sure she pees in the cup, is all she focuses on, eyes clamped shut. It’s all she has to focus on, mind on nothing else, and while the weirdest thing she’s ever used to run from her problems, it has done its job.

She cleans off her hand and the cup with some toilet paper, takes care of herself, flushes the toilet, and pulls up her pants. She washes her hands, digging under her nails (painted a light, pearlescent pink and the cleanest and most well-cared for things she’s ever seen. She wonders who did them.) and between her fingers, pressing between them so deeply the tender skin ached. She dries them with a paper towel and picks up the cup with another, leaving the bathroom as quietly as she entered.

Barry is still waiting for her, standing up straighter when he sees her.

“Want to take that to Cait or show you the mess hall first?”

“Mess hall.” After a bit of hesitation, she adds, “Please.”

“Okay.” Barry gives her a side look as they walk, attempting to be subtle but failing. He does it several more times, trying to think of a way to speak.

“You can go ahead and ask.” She responds. “No need to beat around the bush.”

Barry looks startled, then sheepish. He rubs at the back of his neck. “That night… you said I was going to get powers. Was,” he hesitates and Hannah can hear her heartbeat in her ears, the hummingbird quickness of it, “was I supposed to be hit by lightning instead?”

“You were.” She breaths out, wishing that saying the words meant the powers yet to manifest would instead awaken in him. Hannah turns her head, looking up at him, expression broken. “I’m sorry, Barry. If I could do it, I’d go back in time and keep myself from walking in there.” _But I haven’t got the speed._ She doesn’t even want the speed.

Hannah suddenly stops, a horrible realization creeping up the back of her throat. While her heart was faster and her metabolism was too (her inability to use pain medication was indication), there was the fact she was still pudgy, her tattoos were still present, her eyesight was much better, and she didn’t feel different. What if it wasn’t _speed_ she was going to get? What if it was something else, something useless to the situation? Then again, hadn’t Barry said that when he woke up? His only difference had been the lightning abs at first.

“Hey, hey.” The cup is pulled out of her hands and a thin, bony arm is pulling her into a side-hug. Hannah doesn’t return it, she doesn’t know Barry, but she takes comfort from it nonetheless, turning her face into his side. She’s shaking- no, vibrating and struggling to breath steadily. “Need me to go get Caitlin?”

“N-no.” She doesn’t want Caitlin. She wants Spot or Stacey, someone she knows and can hug and cry to. “No.”

“Well, let's get to the mess hall.”

She draws away from him, rubbing at dry eyes. “Yeah.”

* * *

The mess hall is nothing special in appearances, just a bunch of cafeteria tables, bench seats, microwaves, fridges, drawers, and cabinets full of dishes and silverware. Hannah sneaks a poptart, enjoying the artificial taste of strawberry so much she moaned, tilting her head back. Despite being asleep during the coma, this really was the first thing she had eaten in nine months and it. Was. _Heavenly_.

There's a soft snort across from her and Hannah looks at Barry, cheeks a little red and also unimpressed.

“What?” She asks.

“Nothing,” he shakes his head, a tiny smile in place.

She frowns. “What?” She demands, tone brooking no argument. “What is it?”

“You were so still and quiet for nine months.” Barry explains. “And now you're sneaking poptarts and being, kinda,” he winces, realizing he'd backed himself into a corner and didn't want to finish his sentence.

“Loud.” She fills in, smiling a little. Barry looks briefly surprised, then grins a little sheepishly. At least that never changed about her… “Yeah. I know I am. I was a very quiet baby according to my grandma and parents.”

Her own smile falls, melancholy settling in. Did time here pass the same for time there? Had nine months passed since DND, where she was with Amber one second and gone the next? Would she be considered missing indefinitely, until she came home?

Would she even be able to go home with these new abilities that had yet to manifest?

Hannah is stopped from picking apart the poptart she had half-eaten by Barry, him settling his hands– bigger, softer, warmer– over hers. She lifts her head, trying to swallow with a desert dry throat.

“I'm sorry you're in this situation.” He tells her. “But these guys will get you home.”

Tears prickle at her eyes. There's a lump in her throat. “Ye–” It’s all she can manage before she's crying again, wrenching her hands out from under Barry’s to cover her face, struggling to get out of her seat.

“Hannah–!”

Barry reaches out to grab her as her foot slips out from under her. She's going to crash into the table behind them.

Everything seems to slow down. His elbow knocks the water cup over and she panics, needs to grab it or it'll spill. And suddenly she's holding it, tipping it back upwards.

She gasps for breath, startled by her movements. Her eyes stare at the cup, then she looks at Barry, who's frozen, poised to grab her. His own eyes are round as the full moon.

“So…” Hannah is still crying, but it's subdued. She lets go of the cup, wiping at her eyes. “I have speed.”

* * *

Hannah looks at the stack of cardboard boxes against the wall, and down at her jogging pants and sweatshirt. Later, Caitlin and her were to go shopping with Wells’ credit card. (“It is only right, seeing as I've robbed you of nine months of your life _and_ complicated your return home.”) The way his eyes had seemed to spark, daring she speak out, had made Hannah smile sheepishly as able, thanking him in a soft voice with a tacked on, “You didn't have to. Sweatpants and my jeans are fine.”

At this moment, she was expected to get on a super-powered treadmill and run. Hannah didn't want to run in front of these people. Her face got red and splotchy, she sweat like a hog, and she wheezed. It was embarrassing.

“Do I have to?” She whines.

“Yes.” Caitlin nods, though there is a bit of fretting in her voice. “I have ice and bandages.”

Hannah sighs against the knot in her stomach. “I want to buy a giant bottle of OJ when we go shopping. I don't care about clothes. Just… I need citrus. Lots of citrus. And chocolate.”

She can hear Cisco’s aborted laugh from the intercom and see Wells’s raised eyebrow through the glass to the Cortex. Caitlin rolls her eyes, having spent most of the day trying to convince Hannah to not go jumping back onto solids and failing (Cisco and Barry were not helping, or Detective West when he came by to question her at lunch time _with_ burgers).

“Maybe. _If_ you don't break anything.”

“No promises.” She mutters, climbing up to the treadmill. She makes sure the padding around her elbows and knees are secure, as are her sneakers. The helmet is uncomfortable and so are the gloves, but she'd rather have them on than not. She wasn't Barry and so she couldn't properly predict what she did and didn't have.

“ _We’ll start slow, tell us when you're at a comfortable pace.”_ Cisco says over the intercom, and she can feel the lurch underneath her as it begins to move. The hum of electricity and the motor is was attached to are quiet, mere background noise to her heartbeat and blood.

It picks up steadily, and she's at a slow jog when she asks Cisco to stop. From there he bumps it up every ten, and soon she's running so fast her legs blur. It's… something. Her breathing isn't coming in short bursts, her skin doesn't feel too hot and wet. Everything feels… easy. It's a feeling she hasn't felt since she was tiny and taking ballet along with soccer.

Hannah laughs, it bubbling up out of her, and she runs, runs, runs, closing her eyes. It's a steady rhythm, feet striking down in time to her heart, faster if she took the milliseconds to count. She grins, so hard her cheeks hurt, but she loves it, loves _this_.

Her nose stings, as do her eyes, and as she laughs she cries. She doesn't stop running, letting all the hurt fall away as she goes. For this moment, she can let it out.

“Cisco?” She calls, face wet with tears and grin morphed into a smile. “I'd like to stop.”

_“Okay, let’s bring you out of that run slowly. Don't wanna crash into the wall or something.”_

It takes several minutes and Hannah does finally gasp a little, does breath steadily in and out, regaining her regular breathing pattern. She feels… off. Thinner somehow. When she sets her hands on her waist, bending forward a little, the chub is still there.

_Why? Did Barry get abs because his actor got them? So do I not need them?_

“That was amazing!” Cisco comes into the training room. “Do you know how fast you were going?”

Hannah is a little startled by his hands clasping her shoulders, grinning wide enough to show pearly white teeth. She shakes her head, glad no one mentioned her tears.

“No. How fast?”

“140! I've never even seen a car go that fast! And you were just using your legs!”

Hannah can't help it, she likes seeing these people excited, and to progress the story she has to get faster. “I bet I could get faster with training.”

Cisco lights up like the Fourth of July. He steps back, running his hands through his hair. “You could!” He turns away, rushing off. “I need to do some calculations! I'll be back!”

Caitlin stands beside Wells, arms crossed and watching Hannah warily. “Are you alright? Like Cisco said, you were going pretty fast.”

“I'm fine.” Hannah comes closer. “Just _really_ hungry. Like, eat seven plates at a buffet hungry.”

“You really shouldn't just go right into solid foods.”

“I'll need them. Trust me.”

Caitlin purses her lips. “Fine. But no more than what I allow!” She turns, marching from the room. “I'll go grab my purse and we can head to the mall.”

Hannah lets her go, leaving her beside Wells. Her skin tingles and she is already slipping into the innocent act, as though she knows nothing about the man. She has yet to talk to Barry away from cameras and she can't risk Caitlin or Cisco going to Wells about this if she straight up says, “Wells is the man who killed Barry’s mom.”

“Ms. McCullough, while the others seem to have forgotten, I recall you mentioning a show and actors when waking up, claiming you come from another universe.” Hannah looks at Wells, look soft and open as he looks back, shrewd and calculating. “Care to explain?”

“Well,” she shifts, acts nervous about talking about her world, “I dunno how much I _can_ say. This isn't what actually happened anymore. But I remember Barry was a hero called the Flash, learning from his mentor Dr. Harrison Wells with help from Cisco Ramon and Dr. Caitlin Snow. There was always a villain of the week, but the main villain was a mystery guy who killed Barry’s mom.” She shrugs. “We still don't know who did it and I actually. I _really_ want to make things right for Barry.”

Wells doesn't speak, he's watching her like a lioness does prey. Hannah is calm, though she fidgets a little, playing into the role of ‘nervous teenager.’ Then he nods. “You should go find Caitlin. She will be anxious to have this shopping experience over.”

Hannah nods, making for the door.

“Oh, and Ms. McCullough?”

Tensing, she turns. “Yes?”

“Please remember to remove your protective gear. I'm sure you don't want to stick out too much.” He smiles, a tiny and enigmatic thing, and Hannah turns a little warm under the collar at her mistake.

“Thank you, sir.”

* * *

After shopping and Hannah getting her fill at a buffet (and embarrassed the entire time by how much she could eat and still not feel full), the two ready to return to STAR Labs. Most of the trip had been awkward, Hannah attempting to make small talk while completely aware it probably wasn’t the best. Caitlin had taken it, somewhat, in stride. She was polite and courteous, but clearly not interested in making a friend out of Hannah.

“I’m sorry.”

Caitlin pauses in grabbing one of the two bags of clothes, hers filled with five shirts. The bioengineer stares at her, expression a fraction tight but also curious. “What are you sorry for?”

“I… you…” The woman takes an unsteady breath, blinking away her nervousness. “I know what you lost the night of the explosion. And it… it _sucks_.” She can see Caitlin’s vague expression shutter, closing her out. Hannah holds back a wince. “I know how much it hurts, to lose everything you have going for you in a single night. And while I, I didn’t lose my fiance or bioengineering degree, I did lose my whole world. So, maybe it’s the same thing.” Seeing how quiet and still Caitlin still is, Hannah bites her lip, shrugging. “Just… food for thought. I’ll… go in now.”

She grabs her own bag, with it’s jeans and slacks, and runs inside. She stumbles as she goes, entire world slowing to a stop and a feeling of vertigo hits her. Hannah drops to her knees, shaking her head until the vertigo is gone.

“Hannah?” She looks up at Cisco, coming around the bend, eyebrow raised. “You look like you saw a ghost.”

“I’m pretty sure I just sped up, but because there’s nothing around here to focus on, I got motion sickness.”

“Ew.” He makes a face. “C’mon, let’s head for the Cortex and Caitlin can give you another checkup. Then we’re going on an adventure.”

“And that totally doesn’t sound ominous as all hell.”

Cisco grins at her. “It might be.”

After a quiet, tense check-up from Caitlin, the group heads to the private runway Wells owns.

Hannah has to change this time into a tight, red, one piece body suit that ends right above her knees and presss her chest relatively flat, along with her curves. Her kneepads and elbow pads were securely strapped on, along with thick tripolymer cloth fitted like gloves and ending at her upper arms. She wiggles her toes in the tight, unbroken in sneakers Cisco gave her. They were black with yellow zigzags.

“Do I have to do this now?” She asks, pouting a little as she stands in the doorway of the van, arms crossed because it was too cold for shorts and this felt far too revealing.

Barry is here, let off early from work. He’s antsy, it’s clear, and Hannah wonders if it has to do with the storm she saw gathering on the south side of town on the way to the mall. There had been a gut feeling, the knowledge that everything was working faster than she thought, and Hannah was learning that it was very likely she was right. She also knew that, right now, Barry should be the one in this outfit, learning his powers, growing into the hero he’d become.

“Yes. We wanna see what you can do!” Cisco cheers as she steps out of the van.

The woman sighs resignedly, smiling against better judgement. “Vitals, I’m guessing?”

“Nope.” Cisco slings an arm around her shoulder, and it reminds her a lot of her own friends back home. It makes her lean into him a fraction, smiling. “ _Caitlin_ is monitoring vitals and Dr. Wells is watching your energy output.”

“And you make the gadgets.”

He grins, holding up a familiar earpiece with it’s golden lightning bolt. “Exactly. This baby here typically combats battlefield impulse noise. For you, and your budding speed?” He shakes it, and his belt of gadgets jingle as his arm moves the jacket he had on. The light green outside looked warm, the bagginess comfy, and she wanted to wear it so bad. “Any potential sonic booms. Which, to be honest, would be _awesome_.”

“I think I’d like to not pop eardrums today.” She responds, making him chuckle.

“That would still be _awesome_.”

As Cisco gets her helmet off and goes to modify the earpieces one last time, Caitlin modifies the suit’s internal vitals reading, syncing it to her ipad.

“Thank you.”

Hannah looks up, meeting Caitlin’s eyes. She’s still guarded, clearly, but there’s a small fraction of warmth as she looks at the younger woman. “What for?”

“You have been the first person, outside of present company, to offer an ear and sympathy for what happened. And not only that, but empathy. Most decide to look the other way or say something derogatory.” Caitlin explains, stiff, eyes flicking back to the ipad. “So… thank you.”

Hannah plans to say something, but Caitlin turns and hurries back to her place at the wide table set up under the gazebo. Cisco comes to settle the helmet back on, earpieces in place.

“This,” she wonders if his face hurts from grinning so much, “is going to be so awesome.”

“You've already said that twice.”

“Third time's the charm, eh?” He winks and if Hannah actually thought about Cisco more often like a stereotypical hormonal teenager, she may have felt her heart flutter. Instead she laughs, a loud and slightly squeaky sound.

“Sure, Cisco.”

“Ms. McCullough, as much as we would all like to see your abilities tested,” Dr. Wells tells her from just to the side of the table, holding an iPad in his lap that showed her energy output, “ _please_ try to show a little restraint.”

She remembers those words, stuck in her mind like stark black against a white background. A warning and encouragement wrapped into one for Barry Allen. For her, the wording was twisted a little too left, a little darkly, making sure she heard the _we_ and _all_ , pointing out there was no one to impress, not even herself. It was to remind her she alone was in this situation, that _Eobard_ would not willingly provide help because she had ruined his chance to go home.

Hannah gives him a slight nod and smile, achingly sincere thanks to smiling at shitty customers back home. _You will not win. I may have to get them to my side, but you won't win. Not in this universe._

She sets up, breathing in deep, crouching down like an Olympian at her starting line.

“Go when you're ready.” Cisco calls.

A smile touches her lips at his encouragement, closing her eyes. She tangles her soul into the electricity, hears it crackle in her ears, and she _runs_.

The treadmill was a confined space, an area where she could think and not worry about getting hurt. Here, in the open with nothing to stop her but flat land and concrete, Hannah had to focus.

It didn't stop her from running, pushing herself as fast as she could go. She slows down a little, twists her body sideways and skips, veins boiling under her skin. Hannah turns back around with a tight spin, laughing more, pouring power into her body, enjoying the burn in her legs.

If she could get fast enough, Hannah could pass from this universe to her own.

The thought trips her, figuratively and literally. She slams into the runway, rolling and buckling. It's like a car crash without the screech of metal and oil leak. Her body screams in agony, but not as much as her right wrist and left leg.

When she stops, Hannah is biting back a scream, gasping on air, tears streaming down her burning face. She can hear Caitlin’s shout of _oh my god_ and Cisco ordering Barry to get the van started.

Her left leg hasn't ever hurt so bad, like someone had taken an small hatchet and hacked away until shredded flesh was left.

Her arms shake as she shifts onto her stomach, trying to push up. Her right wrist screams and she drops with a cry.

“Hey, hey, hey, don't move!” Cisco orders, coming up fast. He stumbles a little at the sight of her ankle. “Holy _shit_ that's a lot of blood.”

“Cisco!” Caitlin admonishes.

“Sorry, sorry. Just– _holy shit_.”

“Flip her onto her back.” Caitlin orders. “We need to move fast.”

Hannah is quickly helped up and loaded into the van, struggling to not black out with how her leg just radiated pain. Caitlin looks over her wrist, decides it was a minor fracture, and quickly places splints and tight wrapping around it.

Her leg is… less good. It looks to be a clean break. With bone and blood. Caitlin mutters about a torn tendon and Hannah suddenly _really_ hopes she has super healing.

“Cisco, give her something to bite down on.”

“Why?”

“Because you're gonna bite your tongue or break your teeth if you don't. _Cisco._ _Grab that bucket_.”

Hannah maybe threw up. Cisco wasn't down with holding the puke bucket. Hannah did get to feel the jacket he had, him giving it to her to bite down on.

By the time they've gotten back to the Labs, Hannah feels less in pain and more woozy. She hasn't lost a lot of blood, so Caitlin assesses its from a low pain tolerance.

“Trust me,” Hannah slurs as she's being rolled into the medbay, “I've got good pain tolerance. It's _this_ I don't do well on.”

“Whatever it is, you need to stay _right here._ ” Caitlin orders. “This won't feel good.”

“Gimme something to bite and grab and I'll be fine.”

It's not a fun time.

Somewhere between the fix, Barry leaves for work. After it's all said and done, Hannah curls on the bed in medbay. Not even 24 hours since she woke up and Hannah is already back in here. Figures.

 _So much for avoiding a Barry Level fuck up._ She thinks, leg throbbing, bone set back, and in a cast. Her wrist isn't broken anymore, she can feel it. But she won't tell Caitlin that yet. For now she's going to sleep.

* * *

Clyde Mardon is an issue she’ll need to address before actually getting to talk about her home, Hannah realizes when Barry comes in the next day, talking about impossible men who can create storms nearly hitting him and Iris and the possibility of his mother’s killer being like Hannah. Hannah, as she listens, also knows she can't let Clyde Mardon die. There will not be blood on her hands if she can help it.

Hannah, recovered in three hours from her broken ankle yesterday, watches him pace. Wells is the only one not present, not fond of being around Hannah and what she poses for him. Cisco is bouncing, looking at her far too often, thinking and calculating odds. Caitlin looks unsure, lips pursed.

The biggest problem for the woman out of time and place is that, while she has the speed and so far all the abilities, she does not have a suit. The Flash suit was meant for firemen, and males at that. According to Cisco, her max as of the day before was 400 miles an hour. Already she was faster than Barry.

“Mardon got his powers the same as me.” The words are acid, a near carbon copy that don't match up right. “From the explosion and storm cloud.”

Barry turns to her. Until that moment, she'd been silent. She looks back at him, sees the hope and conviction there. Hannah looks away.

“He needs to be stopped before anyone else dies.” She agrees.

“That,” Caitlin interrupts, “is a job for the _police_.”

“I work with the police.” Barry argues.

Hannah snaps her gaze back to him, wanting to remind him he isn't a hero. Not this time. But she doesn't, because it's wrong and cruel. Wells appears, to remind Barry for her.

“As a forensic assistant.”

“You're responsible for this.” Barry points out, getting fired up. “For him!”

Wells looks ready to say something. Hannah is tense, feeling like she's watching her parents get into another fight and she's seven again. She stares.

“You are not a hero, Barry Allen.” Wells says instead, like the truth is glass being pried out of his rib cage piece by piece. “You are just a young man.”

There's a strong, stunned silence. Three people in the room understood the severity of those words, one more than any of them. Barry meets Hannah’s eyes, pained and angry. Wells won't move an inch, entire body rigid with rage and despair.

A shiver runs down her spine, thinking, _Is this how Barry becomes a villain? Because I took what is rightfully his?_ But she can see, behind those two overpowering emotions, hope and a call for help.

“At least he's willing to do something about your fuck up.” The words are out of her mouth on instinct, wanting to fix her mess and, eventually, one day, set the timeline right.

Hannah is at Barry’s side in a small whirl of wind, looking at Wells. She crosses her arms, and Barry lightly bumps her. A tingle runs along her skin from the touch, burrowing into her narrow like a parasite she doesn't want to pull out. “And so am I.”

“Oh.” Wells doesn't laugh but he may as well have, tone icy. “And what will you do? Run circles around Mardon?”

Hannah smirks, and it feels like a nasty thing. It's very unlike her. “If I have to, yes. I may not have been supposed to have these powers, but I know them. I know what I can do, and I will do it. To protect this city and world until I can get home.” For a moment she falters. Then she stands up straighter. “I'll fix this, with or without help.”

_You want me to do this alone, Eobard, then I will if I have to. But something tells me I won't._

“Luckily for you,” Cisco speaks up, hesitant a little, glancing at Wells who looks beyond pissed but containing it well, “I have something that may help.”

He turns, heading for a hidden door with a remote. He clicks a button and the door lifts, revealing what the Flash suit used to be.

“I'll need to make a few adjustments, but that won't be too hard. Just open up the bust a little so you aren't getting squished around,” he motions to where he'd have boobs if a woman, “here. Should feel like a sports bra.”

“Tripolymer.” Hannah murmurs, awed.

Cisco turns, looking at her with surprise. “Yep. Designed it to replace the turnouts firefighters usually wear. The tripolymer makes it heat and abrasive resistant, so whatever high speeds you go should be fine.” He shrugs. “I figured that, if STAR Labs did something nice for the community, maybe they wouldn't be so angry at Dr. Wells.”

Watching him say it on television, Hannah hadn't felt very much. But here, standing beside him and looking at the suit, her heart melted a little bit.

Cisco Ramon was far too good for his own well being. It made her heart hurt.

“Bonus,” Cisco turns around, “is that it has built-in sensors so we can track your vitals _and_ stay in contact with you from here.”

“Neat.”

“Now,” Barry looks among everyone, “how do we find Mardon?”

“We can retask the STAR Labs satellite to track meteorological abnormalities over Central City.” Caitlin advises, still fretting over the idea of this but unable to stop the boulder-on-the-steep-mountainside this had become. “It'll take a couple hours, but when we do we'll be able to find Mardon easier.”

“Awesome.”

Hannah is halfway grinning when she remembers something important. “Only one issue with us going after Mardon.” She sighs, and eyes turn to her. “I literally have no idea how to fight.”

Cisco’s face falls. Barry looks slightly uncomfortable, aware he's of no help. He's too gangly and skinny. Wells looks vaguely triumphant. Caitlin breaths out, thinking this would put a stop to the hairbrained plan they'd begun to formulate.

“I know someone who might be able to help.” Barry brings up, a fraction hesitant. “He can be over the top, but he means well.”

“You mean the Arrow.” Hannah runs her hands down her face, blocking the glee on Cisco’s face. “ _Fuck_. I'm going to ask him for advice on fighting, aren't I?”

“It's a good idea.” Barry shrugs. “O- er, Arrow is pretty okay once he warms up to you, though still a little intense.”

“I know.” All eyes turn to Hannah and she shrinks under them. “I,” she stammers, “I mean…”

“Dude,” Cisco breaths, somewhere between freaked out and amazed, “how did we forget you said you're from another universe?”

“The fact I suddenly got speed?” Hannah is meek, tongue heavy and mouth sour.

“Well, that is a factor.” Cisco agrees. “But, Hannah, you know so much stuff! This is amazing and can help us!”

Hannah winces. “Well, I don't know if I– it's just… _timelines_.”

She's staring at Cisco, wondering if he even understood what she meant by all that.

“I think,” Wells speaks up, careful and calculated, all eyes on him as he seems to take center stage, “what Ms. McCullough was trying to articulate is that history is a touchy subject and she can't reveal anything without upsetting the already unstable timeline.”

“So,” Cisco drags out the word, “history and timeline as in… time travel?” Cisco looks to the speedster in question. There's a near manic gleam in his eye and Hannah wonders if she'd look the same way if she was told time travel was possible nine months ago in her world.

“Yes.” Hannah agrees. “I… this is all,” she doesn't want to say it like it is, but if it walks and talks…. “ _fiction_ to me. I'm from 2017. The end of June, to be exact.”

“Ooh, boy.” Cisco runs his hands through his hair, pointing, “So you know _exactly_ what happens for,” he motions around them, “all of this?”

“Not anymore.”

“What do you mean by that?” Caitlin is worrying her lip. “What changed?”

“Me.”

Barry and Hannah look at each other, having spoken simultaneously. Her cheeks burn and he looks sad, but not angry.

“Like I said,” Hannah begins, slowly, in case Barry wanted to speak first, “I come from another universe. I don't exist in this one. When I came here, I thought I could go to Barry for help.”

“If Barry and you changed and all you did was show up, does that mean _Barry_ was supposed to get hit by lightning?”

Hannah winces, Barry won't speak. He already knows.

“ _Ooh_ ,” Cisco winces, silence enough of an answer for him. “So that means…”

“I got used to the fact I'm not getting powers pretty quickly when I saw what she was going through to obtain them.” Barry shrugs. “And I’d rather find my mom’s killer using the law.”

How Hannah doesn't glance at Wells is a feat she'd later marvel at. The fact _Barry_ doesn't is another feat to admire.

“Well,” Cisco begins, lightly, “that makes this less complicated? Since there’s no lingering envy over losing this.” There’s a brief pause, and he adds, “Though it would make a badass villain backstory.”

“Cisco _no_.” Hannah’s jaw drops. “None of us are becoming villains.”

“I’m just sayin’.” He raises his hands, excitement evident. “It would be so cool.”

 _You suck as a villain. Trust me._ Hannah shakes her head at him. _Sexy but sucky._

Sadness seeps into her bones, thinking of Killer Frost and Savitar. She changes the subject to get rid of the sadness welling up.

“Real quick addition concerning the suit, Cisco.” She points at her legs. “I’m 5 and three-quarters. You’ll need to shorten it too.”

“Already knew I was gonna need to do that.” He scrutinizes her, looking her up and down. “I think I’ll take your measurements now.”

Hannah makes a face, hating when she’d need to do that. “But I don’t wanna.”

“Well you gonna if you want that to fit.” Cisco raises a challenging eyebrow at her. Hannah groans, but gives a nod. He grins, eyes lighting up just like when the team realized she had super speed and super healing.

“How is it legal for you to be this much of a nerd?” She asks as Cisco goes to find measuring tape. He doesn’t hear her and she shakes her head, fondness already overfull within her. She cared about the characters, and maybe she could let herself care about the people.

“Well, Ms. McCullough,” and her eyes snap to Wells, mood cuddling like bad milk, “it seems you have a team already. Let’s hope your hubris doesn’t get the best of you.”

“I’m not blindly confident about this, Dr. Wells. I know I’m not the best choice for this.” Hannah replies, wanting to reveal the man beneath the mask. “I don’t know how any of this will play out anymore. And that means me going up against Mardon could have wildly different outcomes to the original.” She purses her lips, thinks on what to say, then asks, “Why are you so harshly against me doing this?”

He can’t say it’s because his own hubris nearly killed her. Wells- _Eobard Thawne_ \- did not have an invested interest in her like he did Barry, had no reason to insinuate himself so thoroughly into her life. Frankly, she didn’t even _have_ a life. Until yesterday she had been a comatose Jane Doe. Eobard hated her and very likely wanted her dead, probably hadn’t killed her because he didn’t know what to do with her and figured she might still have use for him.

“Because you are not supposed to be here.” He admits, and if he aimed for it to sting, it doesn’t. Hannah knew she wasn’t meant to be there, with the powers she had but would use since Barry couldn’t. “And knowing too much automatically means you will try to do things differently, resulting in further chaos to the timeline than you taking Mr. Allen’s place under that lightning strike.”

Hannah can’t be mad at him, because he’s right. No matter how hypocritical he is. She wants to save Mardon to stop his brother’s rampages, wants to save Eddie, and Ronnie, and the usher, and countless others that Barry’s couldn’t save. She is already faster than him. Not by much, but she is, because she knows the limits and is pushing already, is forcing herself to be faster.

Hannah is stuck here until she can figure out a way to get home.

* * *

The suit feels… empowering. You can’t tell Cisco had quickly tailored the bust to be more open, had shortened the legs and arms and torso. And she feels… oddly free. Hannah wasn’t fond of showing off her curves, but this was something she could get used to. It was tight almost like a corset, but not with the side effects of crushing her ribs and cutting off her oxygen.

Hannah can’t help but look at herself in the mirror. And then she turns to Cisco, who’s preening at her speechlessness, gleeful. “Damn, Cisco. Why aren’t you a fashion designer?”

He grins harder, and she’s surprised his face hasn’t cracked. “My mind can’t keep up with the drama, as much as I love it, and no one would like me because I advocate food more than clothes.”

“I think the models would,” she points out with a small laugh.

“They would.” He agrees. “Though it is getting better.”

“Just wait until the plus-size model ads.” She thinks of the ones she’s seen and can’t help a delighted grin. “They’re cool.”

“I’d hope.” Cisco huffs. “Thin is pretty, but so is curvy and soft. I like my ladies in all shapes and sizes.”

“You’re going to steal my heart, talking like that.”

“If you two are done flirting,” Caitlin comes in with a small shake of her head as Hannah’s face warms, sputtering, “I’m not flirting!”

“If you two are done,” Caitlin corrects, “I would like to go over Hannah’s vitals one more time. The suit isn’t fully synced yet.”

Hannah turns to Caitlin, letting her check over the vitals again. She fiddles with the zippers that spread from her wrist to mid-forearm, unzipping to pull her gloves off. “Do you think I’m going into this too fast?”

“What do you mean?” Caitlin questions, not looking up but lips pursing. She glances between the suit and her tablet.

“Well, I mean,” Hannah shifts her stance, stops at Caitlin’s quick look, “and I’m paraphrasing events that never happened, but I have… my cells and blood have a ton of medical properties. For therapy and vaccines and similar.”

Caitlin is quiet, as is Cisco. Hannah looks between them. Caitlin sighs, finishing her work, and steps back.

“I know. _We_ know.” She motions between Cisco and herself. “And while I don’t want this, I also know you… know things.” Caitlin swallows. “You think this is right, as does Cisco and Barry.”

Hannah stares at Caitlin, isn’t sure how to react, so she carefully reaches out to take a hand. Caitlin lets her, looking briefly surprised when Hannah squeezes, trying to convey surety and comfort all in one. “It is. I’m not the best choice, I don’t know how to fight beyond biting my attacker, SING, and how to break a headlock, but I can try. And I’m going to get hurt, it comes with the territory of being a heroine, but I can’t give up. I won’t give up.”

Caitlin exhales. Hannah squeezes again, just a bit tighter, and adds, softly, “I won’t end up like Ronnie. Not with you guys here, doing what you know best.”

Her throat tightens, strangling back the sudden urge to tell Caitlin and Cisco the truth about Harrison Wells. But, if she plays this all right, they’ll find out soon anyway.

Caitlin looks a little paler, lips pressed tightly thin, and she gives a single nod. Her eyes are bright with pain and sudden, unyielding conviction. Hannah returns the nod before Caitlin steps away, to sync the tablet with the computer.

Hannah decides to not wait for Barry to get off work to explain what she remembers. “So, Mardon is hiding in the same barn he and his brother were in nine months ago.”

“And you’re sure that wouldn’t change?” Cisco has a bag of skittles and is munching on them, curious and excited. “Like, it’s a fixed point?”

“Unless he’s already been ratted out, no.” Hannah sets the gloves down on the computer desk. She pauses, looking at the mannequin her suit could no longer fit and her neatly folded stack of civilian clothes. Then she continues. “ _I_ think he went back because that’s where he was ‘reborn.’ Guy has a serious case of God Complex. It’s almost sad.”

“I like how he gets an almost sad. Because he’s a murderer.”

Hannah smirks, gleeful. “Wait until the next Star Wars comes out.”

Cisco sits up in his seat so fast he nearly goes careening into the floor. She’s beside him in an instant, righting him and the seat. She steps back, and decides to quit mentioning future pop culture, no matter how much she wanted to talk about _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_.

“You’ve already seen it?” He demands, excited.

“Yes. I’m from 2017, remember?”

“Well, yeah, but…” He sets the bag of skittles down. “Is it worth seeing?”

“Yes. And the fact I now have to wait three years for the _Last Jedi_ is killing me. I was six months away from it until now.” She sighs sadly, a little mousy sound. “Also there’s one between _Force Awakens_ and _Last Jedi_ that is important and beautiful. I cried. Loudly and for a long time.”

“I heard Star Wars?” Barry comes in. “And how does it relate to Mardon?”

“Kylo Ren.” Hannah says as explanation.

“The big bad, Darth Vader wanna-be?” Cisco’s eyes get a little wider.

Hannah grins. “Yeah. Him. I see similarities in Mardon and him. Mardon isn’t thinly veiled to equal to Hitler though, so…” She shrugs.

“Huh.” Cisco’s whole body moves with the sound, looking enlightened. “I’m gonna really enjoy the _Force Awakens_.”

“You will.”

Hannah shakes her shoulders, loosening them, as Barry notices she’s in the Flash suit. He pauses, face looking a bit flushed, and he glances away. “You look cool.”

She straights, rolling back her shoulders, and grins at him as she plants her hands on her hips. She’s tempted to spread her legs and do the Wonder Woman pose, but doesn’t want to cause legal trouble. “You think?”

“Yeah.”

His tone is a little breathy and then he’s turning away as her soul makes a strange keening noise. She blinks after him, surprised and flattered at his reaction. Cisco looks between the two, narrows on Barry’s face momentarily, before raising an eyebrow. He gives Caitlin a Look™ that she returns, something almost sly about it.

Hannah then uses her speed to change into her clothes, tugging down the back of her baggy, STAR Labs sweatshirt until it covered her ass. The suit is neatly folded where her jeans, tank top, and sweater were. She’s barefoot, as she usually is around the Labs. The cool tile helps keep her grounded and focused, even if Caitlin and Wells tended to give her feet That’s Not Regulation Safe™ looks. For some reason she suddenly felt _shy_ in the suit and didn’t want to wear it until she needed to.

She clears her throat, dispersing whatever shyness had suddenly gotten hold of her, and speaks, “So, like I told you guys before Barry came in, Mardon should still be at the barn him and his bro were found in nine months ago.”

It turns to business then, the four of them debating how best to handle the situation. “I want to catch him before Detective West and Thawne confront him,” she explains. “They almost died originally, and Mardon made a tornado that woulda destroyed Central.”

Cisco hisses through his teeth. “That doesn’t sound too good.”

“Which is why I want to avoid it.”

“You can’t.”

All four jump, turning to see Wells, sitting in his wheelchair and watching them with a little scrutiny. He glances over Caitlin and Cisco, lingers on Barry too long, and then lays the entire, crippling weight of his stare on her.

“Why not?’ She asks, careful to not demand. She wasn’t better than all of this, she could only hope to save more lives than Barry would have.

He steepled his fingers, looking at her as though she were worthless but the best option he had. Hannah guesses that Wells had realized that he didn’t have Barry anymore, but he did still have a Speedster.

“You said you understand the effects of time travel. If that’s the case, we can already assume time has made room for you and the unpredictability you present over the nine months you laid comatose. That doesn’t mean the timeline is ready for you to make snap-judgement decisions concerning fixed events.”

“Like how Mardon is found.”

“As hard as this may be,” he drawls, and his eyes shift from her to the left, to Barry, “yes. You must wait.”

He knows Hannah will wait. As much as she doesn’t want to, he knows it. Cisco and Caitlin would follow Wells into Hell and back at this point.  Barry is the one who needs to be told to wait, to bide his time and aim for a better outcome.

Hannah tightens her jaw, breaths in deeply, and nods. “Okay.”

“What?” Barry turns to face her, hurt and rage on his face. “ _Why?_ ”

Hannah nearly shrinks away at the force in his voice, terrified of being hurt but not by him. “I don’t like this anymore than you do, but he’s right. Time and the universe may have let me be here, but I was in a coma for _nine months_. I’m not here easily, I don’t have the powers you were meant to have just to jump the gun.” Hannah hesitates. “I could cause more than just a barn to be destroyed. I couldn’t live with that.”

Barry deflates. “Are you sure we couldn’t do anything?”

“Well,” Hannah hesitates, debates on how much she should share with them this time. “If a certain amazing engineer had decided to track small weather anomalies in Central, we could keep an eye on Mardon.”

Everyone looks at Cisco and he _almost_ looks bashful. He grins back.”I’m not done, because I had to fix the suit, but I could have it done in another half hour. 60 minutes at most.”

“I’d appreciate that, Cisco.” She smiles the best she can, trying to be supportive. “I know we’d all rather have him behind bars now rather than later.”

Barry still looks half-unconvinced. Hannah turns, to assure him again, and sees Wells out the corner of her eye, half smug half hungry. Her blood turns to ice in her veins but she keeps her face gentle.

“Barry,” and she’s never reached for hands so much, but it seems to be becoming a Thing. She doesn’t mind when he lets her, squeezing her hand in a way that makes her feel secure in this world she hadn’t a second before. “We will catch Mardon. And I will catch your mom’s killer.”

“I’d rather use the law.”

Her heart makes another keening noise as he says it, sounding so terribly sad. She steps forward, invading his space, and hugs him. She’s laughably short compared to him, but can’t pull herself to laugh.

“I know. I do too.” He cranes down, hands settling with hesitancy against her back, right under her shoulder blades. His hands feel huge, splayed across like bony wings folded wrong. “He’s proven to not care though, Barry. Or,” she licks her lips as the words whisper past, “he’s proven to think _above_ the law.”

She steps back then, moves to gather the suit into her arms, held to her chest like a teenager did her textbooks. She faces everyone, a still uncertain Barry, skeptical Caitlin, hopeful Cisco, and blank-faced Wells. “I’m going to go practice in the suit. I want to get used to it. It’s… a _lot_ tighter than I’m comfortable with.”

She bounces for the door and is stopped by Cisco, calling, “Wait!”

Hannah half-turns, worries he’d stop her. “I have some ideas about the mask, but I’ll show them to you later?”

“Sure. I’d love to see them.”

He grins at her. “Awesome.”

* * *

It’s another day before Clyde Mardon uses his power. It’s late, nearly ten o’clock, and she’s nearly vibrating with energy to just _go_. Hannah was never the confrontational type, she ran away or tried to hide from confrontation.

Here, on this Earth, she couldn’t avoid confrontation anymore. It made her jittery and nervous and, frankly, terrified, but she knew what to do with all of that energy;

Put it into her feet.

“It’s coming from the Old Dairy Farm.” Cisco says, slightly mystified. He turns to Hannah. “You were-”

She’s gone though, back in a brief swirl of yellow lightning and wind, dressed in the suit. It hugs her body well, the change in shape and size invisible thanks to Cisco’s dexterous fingers. Hannah looks powerful, in charge, ready to go fight to protect the city. She’s also bouncing, clearly prepared to leave to stop Mardon. Caitlin is beside her, worried but hopeful. Barry isn’t there and neither is Wells. She didn’t want Barry there, and definitely not Wells.

“That ready?” Cisco asks, watching her. She nods and he stands. “Well, you can’t go without a mask.”

Hannah’s hands fly up to her ashen blonde hair, chopped into a short bob the day following her wake up.  She’d reacted as if reaching for a helmet, and gave Cisco a sheepish smile for it. “Why _don’t_ I have the original mask?”

“Your head isn’t the right shape.”

Hannah blinks once, surprised. “So _that’s_ why you measured by head, too?”

He nods. “Yep! And I’ve got some prototypes for you. Follow me.”

Cisco bounds out of his seats, walking over to the hidden panel for the Flash suit. He hits a button on the side of the wall and it opens, sliding out the bare mannequin. There’s a little tray in it’s repositioned hands, holding three different masks that make her think of the mask Robin wore in Teen Titans. All are as red as the suit, made of smoothed tri-polymer. The far left was wide enough to fill her face, corners pointing up toward her hairline, the bottoms pointing for her cheeks and looking sharp enough to cut. She doesn’t think it would be comfortable with how often she smiles and laughs, though tri-polymer does have some give when warmed. The second is rounder, much like her glasses with a slight pull up at the edges where her eyebrows would be to better cover her face. The third and final mask would be an exact replica of the first if not for the thickness of the mask, almost resembling glasses with the crystalline, near golden glass over the eye sockets.

After a moment, Hannah reaches for the second mask, then pauses. She shifts over, grabbing the third. If she had to run opposite a tornado, she wanted to be able to see. Hannah doubted Barry could see very well when he ran and she wanted to.

“Ooh, that’s perfect!” Cisco doesn’t squeal, but he’s close, as Hannah looks it over. The underside of the mask clings to her face like a second skin when she fits it against her face. The tri-polymer doesn’t cut into her skin, instead it flexes with as she smiles or sucks in her cheeks. Looking through the glass, there’s no yellow tint like she’d expect. “That’s not glass.”

“What is it?” Hannah is careful as she removes the mask, setting it back on the tray.

“Diamond.”

Hannah whips her head to the side, her neck cracking with the force. She gapes at him. “ _What?_ That’s so expensive!”

“Not when you work at STAR Labs, it isn’t.” He shrugs. “We had it lying around. Figured I could put it to better use protecting you than just sit around gathering dust.” He picks it up, hitting the button on the wall. “This is just to protect your identity. I’m going to make a full mask that covers your hair and holds the comms, but in so short a time this was the best I could do.”

“I love it, Cisco.” Hannah assured. “And you don’t need to make another. This is fine. I’ll just buy a wig or something.”

“The wig’ll go flying off if you wear it.” Cisco waves a hand. “I got this, girl.”

A softness bears down on Hannah and she hugs Cisco. A moment later she pullls back and carefully takes the mask from Cisco’s hands, applying it slowly. He makes a little face at her and she frowns.

“What?”

“Where’s that red lipstick you have?”

“The one in my purse?”

“Yeah. Wear it.”

Hannah nearly says no, says it clashes too much with the suit, but he has this look in his eye and so she goes to get it. She’s already applied it, rubbed her lips to better distribute the sharp, blood color, by the time she’s back.

He looks her up and down one more time then nods.

She moves to dart out but Caitlin, silent until then, finally speaks.

“Wait!”

Hannah wants to run out anyway, but doesn’t. She spins, facing the bioengineer. Caitlin strides across the Cortex and takes Hannah by the shoulders.

“Be careful. Don’t think you know better because it’s too much like what was supposed to happen.”

It’s strange having people who haven’t time traveled warm her against being stupid. She _knows_ not to be, but it’s still nice to have these people care.

Hannah gives a single jerk of her head and takes off. She’s bolting down the street, mind centered around the task before her.

She reaches up to her right ear, hitting and turning on the comms.

“I need directions, Cisco.”

* * *

Hannah comes upon a wrecked barn, angry Clyde Mardon, and two terrified cops. She barely has a moment to take in the scene before realizing Joe West and Eddie Thawne are going to be crushed by barn debris.

She darts over to the two and grabs Joe under the arms, man still holding tight to Eddie, and speeds backwards, dragging them behind the cop car. Her eyes meet Detective West’s, and she speaks.

“Stay _right here_ , sir, and watch your partner. Don’t move for _any_ reason.”

Hannah’s never heard that voice from herself before. Even when she knew what to do in a tense situation back home, her voice had never been so steady and assuring.

She rises from her crouch after an affirmative nod from a gobsmacked Detective West and turns to Mardon and his tornado. Hannah could have prevented this whole thing if she hadn’t listened to Wells.

But she also thinks about what happened when Barry dragged Mark Mardon in early, how he’d brought Leonard and Mick back to town and lost his chance with Iris. Hannah closes her eyes for a second, forced out any lingering feelings of hostility over the situation, and tunes in to Cisco and Caitlin freaking out over her sudden lack of response.

“I’m okay, guys.” She looks at the growing tornado, heart thundering with adrenaline and fear. She’d never been so close to a natural disaster, even after growing up in Florida for fourteen years. “How fast do I gotta go to stop this?”

“ _A tornado that big?_ ” Caitlin asks, and there are keys in the background before Cisco answers, “ _500 miles an hour. At least._ ”

“ _We know you can go 250 at max_ ,” Caitlin goes on, “ _but over 500? Your body might not handle the strain._ ”

Hannah had zero room for doubt. And besides, she knew it was possible.

“I can do it.” Hannah steps out from behind the car. “Barry could go five times as fast, so I know I can.”

“ _With practice, maybe!_ ” Caitlin begins, but whatever else she’s saying is lost by the world speeding up.

Hannah dodges debris, steps in line with the edge of the tornado and _goes_. So fast she’s a red blur, golden-yellow lightning chasing her every second. Her chest expands with every other step, collapsing on the next. It starts to hurt the faster she goes, hard in breath in and harder to breath out.

“ _The suit is holding up._ ” Cisco says.

Caitlin’s worry is palpable, and Hannah ignores that. She can’t if she’s going to do this. “ _Yes, but Hannah’s not._ ”

_Barry has done this. Any Speedster worth their salt can do this._

She closes her eyes behind the mask, gasping on a breath, struggling to keep her Speed. Running, beating out a rhythm that was far too familiar to quickly, her mom comes to mind, and what she’d say if she were there to help.

**_“You can do anything you want, belle, so long as you put the effort in.”_ **

Hannah wanted to stop this damn tornado and put Mardon behind bars.

Cisco breaks through, giddy with excitement. “ _Holy shit she just jumped from 300 to 400!_ ”

“ _And rising!_ ”

“ _Hannah_ ,” Barry breaks over the comms and Hannah’s heart skips, “ _this is_ amazing _. You’re doing great. I don’t even know if I’d be able to do this as well as you._ ”

Her throat feels dry at those words. She thinks distinctly of her sister, who she was used to being compared too in a less appealing way. And here Barry was, saying she was _better_. She’d never been better than someone else when it mattered before.

A few moments later, she’s thrown back by the chaotic, violent unraveling of the tornado. She crashes into the police cruiser with a sickening crack, seeing stars and gasping on air.

“ _Hannah!?_ ” All three chorus.

She coughs, tastes blood, and struggles to sit up. Hannah flinches at the sound of a gunshot, feels the phantom muscle memory of wrestling a shotgun out of her father’s hands, and rolls to the left, avoiding a bullet to the chest.

Looking ahead of herself, she stares at a winded, wrathful Clyde Mardon. If she stopped to think about it, most of the important males in her life had Clyde somewhere in their name. As her introduction to heroism, this asshole counted.

“I didn’t think there was anyone else like me.”

She grins, slides off the car onto unsteady feet. “Sorry to disappoint, but I’m not like you.”

He fires again, and she hears metal striking metal and her eyes snap to the side, sees Detective West holding his hand, grimacing.

Winded, tired, and probably a giant bruise, Hannah somehow drags up the last dredges of her strength and speed to rush the few feet to Mardon and throw him back. He slams into a displaced wall of the barn and slumps down, out cold.

A tremor runs down her body, metal and sickly sweetness filling her mouth, and Hannah tumbles to her knees.

“ _Hannah?_ ” Caitlin calls, near hysterical. “ _Hannah?! What’s going on?_ ”

“I’m fine.” She wheezes, and reaches up to remove her mask now that the threat is gone. “I’m fine. Mardon is unconscious.”

A collective sigh goes up and she grins, chuckling a little. A second later she gasps in pain. “I think my back is messed up.”

“ _Damn, Hannah._ ” Cisco laughs. “ _Can’t go a second without hurting yourself?_ ”

“Apparently.” Is her tired response.

A second later, Detective West is in her view, helping her up. She leans against him gratefully, entire back singing with pain. She lets him help her down to rest beside Detective Thawne.

“So what Barry said is true…” He murmurs. “The impossible _is_ possible.”

“You should be telling him that.” She takes breaths as deep as she can, exhaling slowly. “I’m just the one who got hit by lightning.”

Detective West _looks_ at her, takes in her dirty, sweaty face and her suit, the ruffled mess of hair. Then peers past all of the super to the young adult and settles back on his hunches. He points at the lighting bolts. “He there?”

“Yeah.”

He nods. “I gotta call this in. Can you…?”

“Yeah, just…” She leans back, listens to Caitlin, Barry, and Cisco’s background noise. “Give me a couple minutes.”

“ _Other than your back_ ,” Barry’s voice is _too_ close to her ear and she nearly rips the comms off, then he levels out as though pulled back, “ _you look okay to move._ ”

“Lovely.” Her head falls back, gently resting against the door. “Five minutes, Detective West. Then I’ll be taking Mardon. We’ve got a place for him at the Labs until we can think of some cuffs for the police.”

“ _How did you-?_ ” Cisco half-squawks, cut off by Caitlin’s, “ _Universe where we’re fictional, Cisco._ ”

“ _Oh, yeah._ ”

Detective West is giving her the _look_ again, but he nods. “You can use my cuffs.”

She smiles at him, remembers how red and heroic her lips look, and feels a bit better. “Thanks.”

* * *

Caitlin cleans out the wound on Hannah’s forehead. Hannah had two four cracked ribs and two bruised that needed to heal properly. Mardon was still unconscious in his new cell. Hannah had convinced Cisco to hold off on any suit upgrades to focus on making power-negating cuffs for meta-humans. Barry was at the crime scene helping investigate. Wells was nowhere to be seen in the Labs. It was everything Hannah could want for a first time hero excursion.

Except for Caitlin’s clearly cat-like pissy attitude. Hannah knew _why_ but she’d also already warned and assured Caitlin she could do this.

“Caitlin–”

“I thought you were going to die.”

Hannah doesn’t know what to say to that. She meets Caitlin’s gaze, eyes hard as diamond, hands steady and lips pressed sheet-white thin. Hannah looks away. “Caitlin, I’m sorry.”

“Sorry wouldn’t have fixed the fact you’re _dead_.” Caitlin’s voice rises an octave on the last word before she reins back in by drawing away. Caitlin sighs, a bird-like sound, and looks at Hannah. “I know how heroes work, always fighting the bad guys, putting their life on the line to protect their city and the world, and I get that’s what this is…”

Hannah nods, mouth tasting like sand as she fills in, “But you don’t want me to be so reckless.”

“Yes.” Caitlin looks closed off, so much so it’s painful.

Hannah closes her eyes, wrestling back her own fear of angering this woman or hurting her, and leans forward. She hugs Catilin as hard as able with cracked and bruised ribs, settling her chin on Caitlin’s shoulder. “I can’t promise to not be reckless, Cait, but I can promise to do it with more thought.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.” Caitlin says after they part, but she’s softer, a fraction gentler.

“Life rarely does.”

Caitlin’s nose wrinkles. “That’s so sappy.”

Hannah, despite how much her ribs ache with the motions, giggles. Caitlin gives a small smile, the first one Hannah had seen since she’d arrived. It makes her hopeful this will be fine, that things can and will go better than before.

“Think I can get some orange juice?” Hannah asks, and Caitlin shakes her head, leaving the medlab. “Caitlin? Can I get OJ?’

Caitlin still doesn’t respond.

* * *

Hannah sets Barry down on unsteady feet, winded from carrying him, face pink, but extremely pleased. His hair is disarrayed but fluffy, clothes a little rumbled from the wind, and looks disoriented by the speed. She had pushed how fast she was going, admittedly, but it felt so much like driving in a convertible race car the more she practiced. It was hard to resist. But she would on the way back to Central, for his sake.

The two had stopped on a rooftop, overlooking Star City. She walked close to the edge, eyes lit with awe. “Holy shit. It’s Star City!”

“I gave you the directions for it.”

“I know, I know.” She agrees, turning to him, pushing her mask up into her hair. “But it’s so pretty!”

Barry grins at her, fixing his own windswept hair. “So you’re having fun here?”

Hannah pauses, hesitates as she thinks. She nods. “Yeah, actually. I am. I miss home, but…” Her smile softens. “Everyone is nice, makes it feel easier.”

“So this is the girl you told me about.”

Hannah shrieks, jumping. She whips around, glaring at Oliver Queen, his hood over his face, mask on. She huffs at him.

“Wear a bell next time!”

He turns to Barry, who appears embarrassed but also looks so _excited_ to have them in the same vicinity. Then Hannah realizes what Oliver said and is glaring at Barry.

“You told him about me?”

“Uh, yeah?” Barry rubs the back of his neck, sheepishly grinning at her. “I mean, you came out of nowhere, talking what I thought was nonsense, then you got hit by lightning. And woke up nine months later with _superspeed_. I thought I should tell him.”

Hannah sighs, frustrated, but realizes that must be why Barry asked she take him to Star City. Hannah turns back to Oliver Queen, and walks over, holding up a hand.

“Hi.” She introduces herself as he takes her hand, carefully shaking. “I’m Hannah.”

His eyes narrow under the hood, behind the mask. Hannah is glad Stephen Amell’s own adorableness made it hard for her to be scared of this man. “The Arrow.”

“Uh, she already knows your identity, Oliver.”

Oliver looks past her at Barry. “You told her?”

“Nooo.” He drags the word, unsure of what to say.

Hannah saves him the trouble. “I come from a different universe, where this is all a show. And you’re from a different show in the same universe. I don’t know how I ended up here, and in Barry’s shoes, but I aim to fix it.”

Oliver pushes his hood back, and removes his mask to look at her. Really assess her. She can tell he finds her lacking. “You don’t look like you could do much.”

Hannah turns pink again. “I don’t even know the basics on how to fight. I had shit strength until five days ago.”

Oliver closes his eyes. “Barry, I don’t have time to train someone.”

“You don’t need to!” Hannah jumps to defend.

“If you’re going to do what it sounds like, you _need_ to know how to fight.”

“I don’t-”

“You do, Hannah.”

The Speedster looks at Barry, feeling a bit betrayed. “Excuse me?”

“You were awesome when you took out Mardon, unraveling that tornado like you did,” Barry assures. “But you hurt yourself too, because you’d crashed into a _car_ . I mean, _I_ at least know how to hold a fist.”

“You could have showed me.”

“I didn’t know you were going to run opposite a tornado and then shove a super human so hard you broke one of his ribs, before he had the chance to kill Joe.” Barry responds.

Hannah purses her lips, still embarrassed and feeling bad for hurting Mardon. She’d visited his cell twice yesterday and today, talking to him while in the suit. He was half-mad with power, still claiming to be God and insanely powerful. She had tried to convince him otherwise, using what bible verses she knew about God’s benevolence. It was weird considering she was Wiccan and believed in gods, with an _s_. Mardon hadn’t talked to her when she saw him for a second time that day, and she was pretty sure it was because she’d had a couple new verses to counteract Mardon’s insanity.

“So I need training.” Hannah slumps forward, whining. “I don’t want toooo.”

Oliver looks over at Barry. “You found a female twin of yourself?”

“Uh,” Barry laughs a little bit, “I guess. Never really thought about it.”

“I’m not like Barry, though.” Hannah crosses her arms, standing up straighter. “To start off, I am the youngest of three. He’s an only child. I can admit I need training to someone more experienced, even if I really don’t want the training.”

“And after that?” Oliver looks humored.

“I am a blonde. He’s brunette. Though in the comics both of you are blond. Like, Disney princess blonde.” A small grin grows on her face. “You have a mustache and pointy little beard.”

Barry sputters, covers his mouth and turns away to cover his laughter. Oliver looks disgruntled. Hannah laughs, warmth filling her despite the height and cold wind.

She notices Barry shiver and shifts closer to him, providing her own heightened body heat for him. Oliver’s eyes follow her, flicking between her and Barry, then back. He gives a small sigh after a moment.

“I’ll train you every Saturday and Sunday evening, between eight and midnight.” Oliver tells her, and she snaps to attention. “Unless something comes up for either of us and we can’t make it.”

Her hands curl in, tri-polymer creaking a little, and she nods. “Sure…”

“You don’t sound it.” He raises an eyebrow. “Don’t think you can handle it?”

“No, I can, it’s just…” She grimaces, thinking of when Barry got two arrows to the back. “I don’t like getting shot at. And arrows hurt a lot more than bullets. Do a lot more damage too.”

Oliver’s eyes narrow. “You know something I don’t?”

“In the original timeline Barry was really cocky when you came to visit and you gave him some training.” Hannah explains. “He didn’t case the area before going in and got two arrows in the back. Which you ripped out.”

Barry turns pale-green beside her and she carefully wraps an arm around him.

“Don’t worry. You healed. And learned to look for traps.”

Oliver looks contemplative. “I wouldn’t have been able to do that with you.”

“You would.” Hannah admits. “I tend to forget shit.”

“You didn’t forget _that_.” Oliver points.

“Until I woke up earlier this week, this used to be a show and just entertainment for me. Things I really like, I don’t forget.” Hannah explains. “And if we had begun training _later_ , I would have eventually forgotten. It takes me a while to stop making rookie mistakes like that.”

The emerald archer thinks that over. “Then I’ll be sure to switch up the drills so you can get over those rookie mistakes.”

Hannah groans. “Whyyy.”

Oliver chuckles and Hannah thinks it’s a win to have at least got a laugh out of him. “Because you can’t make rookie mistakes.”

Barry’s presence presses up behind her, arms nearly touching. She turns a fraction, looking up at him.

“What?”

“You looked cold.” He lied, lamely, and all three knew it. Hannah burned hot as a fire now, able to light a cigarette off her just as her parents used to joke when she was a little girl. “So I got closer.”

Hannah nearly says something about his lying, but, without any real trigger, she remembers the issue that is Eobard Thawne impersonating Dr. Harrison Wells.

“Barry, you may want to keep an open mind to what I need to tell you.”  She sighs. “This relates to what I told you before, well,” she waves to herself.

“Is this something I should be privy to?” Oliver questioned, crossing his arms and looking pensive.

Hannah nearly says no, but they need allies in this. “Yes. You do.”

“What is it?”

It’s funny how, nine months ago, telling Barry about Harrison Wells being dead was a great idea. Now she couldn’t. But she had to.

“Barry, Harrison Wells is actually a man named Eobard Thawne and is the man who killed your mom.”


	2. i wanna run (to feel again, to be no one)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hannah is in for the ride of her life when she realizes she's going toe-to-toe with Captain Cold, a villain she is well-versed in when concerning the DCTV version.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here I am, back with a new chapter! This follows episode 4 of season 1, Going Rogue!  
> Title of this chapter is also from Delta Rae's "Run". And check back on the first chapter, I added cover art.

With a loud _oof_ , ending in a squeak, Hannah slams into the mat, back flat on the floor. Sweat slicks her skin and she heaves, feeling her flesh slowly meld with the cold plastic. Her fingers curl around the staff she holds horizontally across her chest protectively as Oliver circles her, a disappointed slant to his mouth that reminds her of Mrs. Humpfrey, her 7th Grade math teacher, when Hannah said fuck it and stopped turning in homework, though Hannah was an ace in math and simply found the homework tedious and too much. Difference between then and now is Hannah is actually _trying_ with Oliver, wants to know how to defend herself and fight back, and maybe it was because this wasn’t coming easy to her.

The big issue is that Hannah is only inclined to be verbally confrontational. And that’s at the _best_ of times. Usually she avoids her problems, even hides them, leaving them to fester. And when aggressively approached, Hannah tends to shrink away. Hannah doesn’t with Oliver because he’s her friend, even if he’s hard pressed to agree.

“Again.” Oliver orders, jerking his chin upwards in a wordless order for her to stand.

Reluctantly, with a disgusting _riiiiiiitp_ noise because her skin and the plastic mat are too in love to willingly part, she gets up, rubbing her stinging shoulders and then her hips where her shirt had ridden up mid-fight and Oliver had immediately gone for. She kept leaving herself open in the stupidest places and at this point Hannah was ready to call it quits completely, because no matter how fast her bruising healed the phantom pains were killer.

“You need to focus more.” Oliver tells her, definition of a grumpy asshole cat. She found out through Barry that Oliver was homeless and living in the foundry. It was shitty, and Hannah felt a similar pain because she lived in STAR Labs, but she wasn’t being a prick with his willing student. “You’re going to get yourself killed.”

“I _am_ focusing.” The Speedster snaps unhappily, indignation boiling up in her at him, the feeling swelling so big she felt choked out like a meek flower faced with fierce kudzu. “You’re treating me like I’m supposed to be a skilled assassin already. I’m not Sara or you.”

“You won’t always be in a controlled environment.” Oliver’s response was pissy, scowl firmly in place. “You won’t have me to take down the next bad guy you face, whether its another Kyle Nimbus or Clyde Mardon.”

Hannah’s mind briefly flashes to Clyde. She had been able to make him talk to her during the confrontation with Girdr, and now she made it her mission to talk with him three times a day. He wasn’t as religious as she’d thought, simply raised by an extremely religious mother who was implied to beat him, and he soaked up any stories Hannah had of her gods.

She was under no delusions he was changing, aware he may be attempting to befriend her to coerce his freedom, and she severely hoped he wasn’t, but she was happy being able to talk to him either way. It meant she was getting somewhere, however little.

“I know.” Hannah wipes sweat off her brow, mind drifting. “I know, Oliver. And I’m trying my best. However good enough that might not be for you.”

That seems to cull whatever the emerald archer had been feeling, his scowl and shoulders dropping. He heaves a heavy sigh, lowering his arms to instead use the staff as a cane.

“It’s not that you aren’t good enough, Hannah. I can tell you’re putting your all in. I can _also_ tell you’d rather not be here, in this room or universe.” Oliver hesitates, and Hannah is spending way too much time with him if she can already read his tells. “But the fact is that you’re here, and no one can babysit you like you might keep expecting. _Especially_ with a man like Eobard breathing down your neck and Barry’s. You have to be able to protect yourself and your team, both from enemies outside and within your ranks. You and your enemies have inhuman abilities, they don’t.”

It's not a team, not really, not yet. They wouldn’t be a team until Barry got his powers and could be the real Flash instead of her, even if they all insisted on calling her by the name she didn’t want.

Sometimes she could admit being called Flash, being called a _hero_ , made her feel warm and whole inside in a way she hadn’t before. It’s what brought her back here, training with Oliver for hours on end before returning, sore and tired and hungry, to STAR Labs. It’s what made her run to save people from burning buildings and stop people like Kyle Nimbus and make sure a lost little boy found his way home, speed steadily increasing as she pushed herself. And because of that, Hannah was able to not fuss so much about being stuck here, turn her mind briefly away from the home she missed to the journey ahead of her to get there.

A light _whap_ against her leg makes Hannah yelp and jump back, then glare at her friend. “Hey!”

“Did you hear anything I just said?” He asks, slightly amused.

“Yes!” She huffs in exasperation. “And then I started thinking.”

“What did I say?” He gives her a challenging look, daring her to try.

“I have to learn to fight to protect my team from Eobard and outside enemies,” Hannah paraphrases easily, now beginning to twirl her staff.

“And after that?” He prompts, watching Hannah stop and blink at him dumbly.

“Oh. Okay. I didn’t hear everything.”

He sighs. “At least you can admit to being distracted.”

“I dunno why I _wouldn’t_.”

Oliver gives her a peculiar look then shakes his head. He throws his staff, spinning, up into the air, and grabs it in both hands on its downward spiral.

“Again.” He states, and runs at her before she can properly register what’s happened.

Damn auditory processing issues.

* * *

Hannah stumbles into the once communal showers of STAR Labs around an hour later, sweaty, grimy, and sleepy. She turns on the water to wait for it to heat up and goes through the motions of brushing her teeth at the sink while waiting, ashen hair a rats nest.

She then strips, tossing the workout clothes into the corner, and steps under the steaming hot spray. Her skin cries and is turning red quickly, but her muscles sigh in relief.

 _Later_ , Hannah thinks as she wets her hair to begin soaping it, _I’ll ask Joe if I can use the tub at his house. I need a real long soak_.

She also needed to get a job. Eobard was more than willing to keep up his appearance as public pariah and lend her money for toiletries after finding out the regular soap and shampoo that had been supplied by the Labs gave her rashes. The red lipstick she wore when the Flash would only last so long, however, as would the eyeliner and eyebrow pencil she never went a day without. She’d sooner die than ask anyone about pads for her period that was definitely coming up if her heightened chocolate craving last week wasn’t already an indicator, alongside the last weekend of the month coming too. Her only solace about _that_ was her luck in it lasting three days. If her connection to the Speed Force didn’t make it worse, or—more hopefully—shorter.

Hannah runs her fingers through her hair to get out any remaining tangles and soap, smelling nothing but apples and honey and a hint of citrus. She rubs her scalp down to ease any tension there from the ponytail she’d worn that day and grabs her scrunchie to squeeze some Bath & Body Works aromatherapy Sleep gel onto it.

Say what you will about Bath & Body Works, but their aromatherapy body wash was a godsend to her aching muscles. You could pry their Sleep and Energy washes out of her cold, dead hands. Bamboo charcoal and black camomile were amazing and had helped even back home, so she’d immediately decided that, if she’d waste Eobard’s money on _anything_ here, it would be stuff that would help her.

She’s halfway done with her shower, reaching for her razor to shave, when she hears an odd noise in the hall. Thinking back, it’s barely 1:30am, having gone a little over on practice and had to immediately eat upon getting back. No one should be at the Labs except, maybe, Eobard. But even he wouldn’t have stayed this late.

A cold chill sweeps down her back and knows it isn’t the cooling fans kicking in.

Forgoing shaving and her time to daydream, Hannah shuts off the shower and grabs her towel on the hook just outside the stall. She towels off and pulls on her sleep pants and STAR Labs sweatshirt. Then she flips her hair over and uses the towel and her speed to towel dry her hair, careful to not burn it.

She comes to a stand still in the quiet building after her routine, listening past the cooling fans and the way everything seemed to breath in the night, the sound of the city beyond cut off by distance and thick walls. It's a terrifying quiet that licks along her damp skin, melds her hot feet to the cool floor, testing the boundaries on how creepy it can get.

Hannah is about to give up and pack up her stuff, ready to return to her cot and deeply sleep until her own despair and anxiety and general mental issues with living in a world not her own wakes her after too little sleep, when she hears it:

The sound of metal gates clanging and crashing. Running steps.

The spark of yellow electricity has barely crackled across her skin and she’s already got her mask on and is sniffing out the intruder, thinking of how she’d have to tell Cisco the security needed to be worked on.

But they’re long gone by the time she finds the storage area, face damp and feeling icky from putting on her mask after a steaming shower, lips pulled down in a harsh frown.

“This feels really familiar,” she says to no one, searching through the small space and going to check every door and possible hiding space.

She’s right to assume whoever came in was gone, and she wouldn’t even know what to look for if she went outside. It was Saturday night and that meant there were busy streets with plenty of shady people, even if it was technically nearly 2am on Sunday.

Hannah deposits her mask on the Flash stand and returns to the showers to collect her things. She goes to bed, bad feeling in her stomach and coating her mouth but unable to properly guess why.

* * *

Hannah very carefully withdraws the wishbone from the Operation board, setting it aside. Caitlin groans, head tilting back. Hannah laughs and is over at Eobard’s table, picking which set of stones to shift across the mancala board. She now has the most but has no doubt Eobard will find a way to win anyway. But she can’t dwell too much, moving to grab the paddle and bounce back Cisco’s hit, barely hitting it. (She had always sucked at hitting small targets.) And then she spins across the table in a whirl, to grab her pool cue, line up her shot, and sink her red striped and orange striped balls into pocket. Barry still has half of his solids and she only has her purple left then the black before she wins.

“You’re doing well today.” Eobard comments as she goes to send Cisco’s shot back. “Better than last time.”

“Of course!”

Caitlin curses when she bumps an edge, and Hannah comes to take her turn. She hits the corner on the leg bone and huffs but is already back at Eobard’s side. She is panting, a light sound from exaltation more than tiredness. Her hazel eyes practically glow, the mossy green lighting up electrically as though struck by lightning, a shock against the muddy brown and inky black iris.

She moves to Eobard, shifting five stones into her pool and winning the game. Hannah grabs the paddle and shoots Cisco’s shot back and sinks her purple striped ball into pocket before lining up and, to Barry’s anguished cry, she hits the black ball and wins.

With Cisco’s shout of victory as her background noise.

She turns and finds him waving his hands in the air as the little plastic ball hits the linoleum floor and bounces in increasingly small jumps before skittering under the computer desk. Caitlin successfully pulls the femur out at this moment and breathes a sigh of relief, though she’s still lost just as Hannah has.

“Dang.” Hannah says, moving to grab the ball when the trill of the alarm sounds and, on the screen, ARMED ROBBERY covers the it.

It’s like déjà vu to Hannah but isn’t sure why, but either way she grabs the ball, setting it on the counter.

“Seems you still have a lot to learn, Miss McCullough,” Eobard taunts and Hannah is glad to not be facing him as she closes her eyes and exhales sharply.

A lesser woman would snap back, but she calls upon the patience of a saint (she thinks of Jeanne d’Arc) and grins, turning to skip to her suit. “Yeah, well, I’d like it noted I beat you, Barry, and Cait.”

“When you get back we’ll see about teaching you chess.” Eobard shoots back, and Hannah winces.

She _hated_ chess. Ugh.

* * *

Leonard Snart wasn’t a man fond of surprises. They weren’t conductive to keeping his jobs on track down to the second.

Take today for example.

Him, Jackie, Jackson, and Mikey had a very set schedule to follow and only a couple of rules.

Rule number one? Don’t shoot the guards or cops. They didn’t need the kind of heat that killing a random person brought.

Jackie can’t follow rules.

When Central’s new little toy came out of nowhere, throwing aside his men and tossing him off the armoured truck transporting the Khandaq Diamond, he quickly realized even the cleanest, most thought out planning couldn’t keep such a person away. Mikey made the apt realization things weren’t going to go their way but shot at the person in red anyway.

Possibly hitting and decommissioning their new obstacle wasn’t an issue. Good on Mikey for taking initiative.

Jackie then aims for one of the guard’s, giving him two to the back and, luckily, the Flash saves the driver, giving a few soft words through lips red as _her_ suit. He stores away the bit of information he’s gathered. This moment gives him and his crew enough time to get the hell out of dodge before the cops begin to arrive.

She barely has turned, this look of surprise on her face, and his men are scrambling up, running. Then she disappears in a golden blur with the injured guard.

Heist ruined. A new obstacle in place.

And Jackie to deal with.

It's easy to decide the man needs to go, quick bullet to the head, especially when Jackie claims be out. Once you’re out, after all, you’re out.

He looks back at his ruined plans, setting the gun down on the table lightly. He runs a finger over his upper lip, thinking. Then he tears away the page to show his backup plan.

Leonard had never needed to use a backup plan before.

His lips tug in a small smirk.

Well, there is a first time for everything.

* * *

Hannah flops onto the seat with a rush of air, mask pushed into her hair, and Cisco is glad they’d bought paperweights after the second time Hannah had blown papers all through the Cortex.

Caitlin beats him to her, checking for any bullet wounds even as Hannah flails and tries to push the chair back out of the woman’s grasp. She begs Caitlin to back off and repeats that she’s fine and Eobard looks on, amused, and Cisco is glad to not be on the probing end of Caitlin’s worry.

“That man shot at you!” Caitlin states huffily.

“It’s okay though! I’m not shot!” Hannah assures and finally bolts out of the chair.

Everyone knows she didn’t really mind otherwise she’d have used her speed to get away.

“Besides, this is one of my fave episodes!” She’s grinning, completely delighted. “I can’t believe I didn’t remember this happened so much sooner!”

“What?” Bioengineer and engineer ask at the same time, somewhat understanding her train of thought. Eobard waits, in his wheelchair, curious as well.

“Leonard Snart!” She seems to vibrate with glee. “I mean,” and there's a brief flash of embarrassment and a _blush_ , “I know I can’t let my excitement get the better of me but also, originally, he was one of the few humans who could go toe to toe with the Flash. Which, like, I love.”

Cisco waits a good long second before adding, settled somewhere between reproachful and not surprised, “And him.”

Hannah presses her lips flat and puffs out her cheeks, face definitely red now. “I’m not even his type and I can definitely separate work from desire. I’m not a _complete_ basket case.”

“Be that as it may,” Eobard finally joins the fray, and she finds it hilarious to be on this discussion when she desires to kick this man’s ass but doesn’t because of ‘work’. “You should tread carefully and try not to be _too_ eager to get to know this man. Leonard Snart is a name I remember well and he’s a criminal who _kills_ , plain and simple. He won’t hesitate to kill you, either.”

“He wouldn’t do it. Not where the Flash is concerned,” Hannah swears, heady with the knowledge she has. Maybe, if she tries hard, she can make Leonard Snart an ally. It won’t be easy or quick, but she _can_.

Cisco and Caitlin share unsure glances. Caitlin speaks first, “If you’re sure…”

“I am.” She nods, satisfied with all she’s said up to that point.

Cisco asks, voice a little high on the end, “Can you tell us what he does?”

“He has the cold gun you lost.” Hannah explains bluntly, and the guilt on Cisco’s face is almost soul crushing. “He’s Captain Cold. In the comics, he made it himself. On accident, I think. I didn’t read them so I don’t really know. Here, he learns how to make his own gun from yours.” She bounces a little, reaches to grab Cisco’s hand. “I really don’t blame you for making it, Cisco. I was a Jane Doe and I had _super speed_ when I woke up. I’d be scared from all the evil metas coming out too. Anyone angry at you just doesn’t get where you’re coming from.”

“One of the few.”

Hannah hugs him, briefly, and then changes into her civies. She pulls her hair from its ponytail, fluffing it out with her hands so it frames her face messily. “The opinion of those mad at you shouldn’t matter. I think you were in the right to be weary, and you didn’t know anyone was gonna steal it.”

She notices Barry coming in with a familiar face framed in blonde, explaining the team dynamic to her, as Hannah switches back to the original topic. “And as much as I loved this entire arc and want you guys to be totally up to date,” she moves to intercept Barry and Felicity even as Cisco shouts ‘hey’, “ _I’m_ not revealing anything. Wanna keep it special.”

“Oh!” Felicity pauses, then grins at Hannah. “It’s good to meet you. Again, I mean. Because, we. Y’know, met already.”

Felicity laughs nervously but Hannah doesn’t mind, used to the woman’s mix up. She pulls Felicity into a warm hug, glad to see her again. After they separate, Hannah asks, “So, what brought you all the way out here? Just visiting?”

“Yeah,” Felicity admits with a laugh, “I needed away from the team.” She adds, gently as able, “I was also asked to make sure you continued to train when not working with the Arrow.”

Hannah rolls her eyes. “I try, but these guys know how to fight as much as I do.”

Felicity gives Hannah’s group a considering look. Hannah steps in the way, shaking her head. “Uh-huh. No way. Arrow would turn them into giant bruises.”

Felicity shrugs, grinning. “Okay. If you say so.”

“I do!”

Cisco’s eyes have lit up with interest, sliding closer to them. “You know the Arrow?” He turns to stare Hannah down. “Do you know who the Arrow is?”

“Yeah, but you can’t know yet.”

“Aha!” He raises the twizzler he had in triumph as Felicity’s mouth drops open. “We find out!”

Felicity readies to say something but the alarms go off. Cisco turns, still grinning so widely Hannah’s own cheeks hurt. He reads the computer screen. “House fire on Birch Boulevard. It–”

“On it!” Hannah rushes off to change and go. She pauses in front of Felicity, snug in her sanguine suit and mask in place, yellow lenses turning her hazel eyes molten. She grins. “Go to trivia night. Dress nicely.”

Over the comes a few seconds later they hear, “Oh that's a _big_ house.”

“Good luck!” Cisco cheers.

* * *

She’s sipping an orange soda, munching on a Hershey’s chocolate bar with almonds when Barry texts Cisco. Cisco, still nursing how Eobard had torn into him over not working fast enough on an algorithm to track the cold gun, blinks at the text, dazed a little.

“Snart’s at the museum?”

“What?” Hannah startles, dropping the can and bar on the desk. Then she shoves the last three chocolate squares in her mouth, chewing fast. “Shit! Cisco!”

She rushes to change, chugs the orange soda, and proceeds to belch. It gets an obscene laugh from her friend.

“I can _smell_ that! Ugh, just— just… go!”

“Sorry!” Hannah drags her hands through her hair, clawing it up into the ponytail she now wore more often than she had as a preteen. Pulling her mask on, she tells Cisco, “Watch my back.”

As she runs, she demands, “Where’s the movie theater?”

“What?” Cisco asks. “Uhm, at the corner on the next street over from the museum.”

Hannah burst through the glass double door, yanking Joe behind the pillar with her, narrowly avoiding being struck by the cold gun. The chill settles on her suit. She turns, finding she’s stepped out into full view of the criminal. Hannah stares at Snart, a little star-struck. Even from this distance she can see the blue of his eyes, the way they mimicked an ocean storm trapped in a glass ball, a dangerous and beautiful temptation.

Quick to speak but not to think, Hannah says, breathless, “You’re even prettier in person.”

Cisco chokes and Caitlin makes a noise of despair over the intercom. She can imagine the pained look on Eobard’s face right before he says, “Miss McCullough–”

“Oh?” Snart says, head tilting a fraction as Hannah’s face gets unbearably hot under the mask. She wants to hide but can’t until her face-off with Snart had ended. “You know who I am?”

Hannah licks her lips, gently bites down on her bottom lip before lifting her chin. She upticks the corners of her mouth in a smile, giving her best challenging look from behind her mask. “Of course I do. Leonard Snart, record going back to even before high school. Come through every six months or so for a heist planned down to the second. You never use the same men twice…” and to nudge things along, she adds, head tilting down to make eye contact, “Except for Mick Rory.”

There’s a brief second where she thinks he may attack her for mentioning his old partner when he says, shifting imperceptibly, showing he was thinking or maybe uncomfortable, “A little short for a runner, aren’t you, Flash?”

She grins so wide her teeth show, letting out a breathless half-chuckle, “A little old to be playing with toys, aren’t you, Snart?”

A smirk lifts the corner of his mouth, enjoying the banter. Her heart picks up speed a little. A tiny shiver runs down her spine.

Shit. This was a bigger issue than she anticipated.

“Maybe I am.” He drawls softly, almost sweetly, before saying, “But every toy… needs a _test run_.”

In a smooth, almost ballet-like motion, Snart pulls the goggles from around his neck up to cover his eyes and spins on his heel, aiming for a couple running for the stairs. Hannah is faster than the gun, closer to the couple too. She grabs them, rushing them out of the way. A tiny thrill runs through her but she also knows what is coming. She saves a mom and child, a man with a cane. He clips her thigh but the pain is a dull ache, no worse than a period cramp, melting fast under the hest she puts off. She hides herself closer to the theater doors than Barry had done in another time.

“You’re pretty fast, Flash!” He calls, taunting, unsure of where she’d gone, turning to try and spot her. The icy touch of the gun had left frost on her eyelashes and snowflakes in her hair. They melt and she blinks away the water droplets. “Maybe I need to be a little faster, hm?”

He shoots towards the usher, but Hannah had known. She runs before the shot is out of the gun, getting in front of the shot and pushing the usher back. She takes the hit, tossed to the ground like a rag doll. Hannah gasps at the cold, but finds it more manageable than she’d thought. Likely a hold over from her love of cold showers and walking around in subzero temperatures in shorts and a tank top.

Hannah gets her feet, shaking just a little. She uses her vibrating abilities to melt the ice, turning to face Snart and find he’s already booked it. So she turns to the usher, helping him stand, asking, “Are you okay?”

He looks down at her, maybe six or so inches taller, and says in an awed voice, “Yeah. Thank you.”

Hannah smiles, eyes closing, shoulders hunching up, and says, “Just doin’ my job.” She gives a jaunty two-finger salute, taking a few steps back, and runs.

The pain catches up as she enters the Cortex. She gasps in pain, bowing over the table to grip it. Her entire back hurts, but the pain centers in her spine, along the center of the blast. Her hands grip the table hard, tiny whine passing her lips. Caitlin is there, asking where it hurt.

“I’m fine,” Hannah rasps, brushing off the woman. “It was just really cold.”

“That’s an absolute zero gun, that’s more than just _cold_.” Caitlin admonishes. “Let me look at you.”

Hannah allows herself to be taken to the medbay, sitting so her back faces the Cortex. Felicity watches in fascination as Hannah removes her mask to set on the side table. She slowly unzips the suit, peeling her upper body from it. She is left in a thin, white tank top.

“Oh my god, Hannah.” Felicity gaps at the large, black bruise making up nearly the entirety of her friend’s back, visible through the thin material. “That looks like frost bite!”

“It does?” Hannah asks weakly. Caitlin carefully touches it and Hannah hisses, jumping back. “Shit! Don’t touch it!”

“I need to know the extent of the damage!” Caitlin berrates. “If you stop taking hits and instead moved people, this wouldn’t happen so much. At least there’s still feeling.”

“I had to take the hit. The usher would have died, otherwise.” Hannah swallows sharply as Caitlin feels along the giant bruise. “I’m not fast enough to outrun the gun yet. That won’t be for a while. So it was either let the usher die or take the hit.”

“Are you feeling all of this?” Caitlin asks, tone stolid.

“Yes.” Hannah’s hands curl against her knees, nails digging in. “And it _fucking hurts_.”

“Tell me where it’s the worst.”

Caitlin feels around a little more and its as she touches Hannah’s spine, right in the center, Hannah throws herself from the bed with a shout. She whips around, tears in her eyes from the pain. “Fuck don’t touch that! Holy crap that hurts!”

“He may have dislocated a disk. Or crushed it. Hopefully it's just ‘really cold’.” Caitlin shakes her head. “I’ll need to do a CT scan to know for sure.”

“Oh, c’mon,” she whines. “You know I hate that thing. The dye makes me feel like I wet myself.”

“We wouldn’t have to use it so much if you stopped getting injured.” Caitlin shrugged, holding out a hand. “Now c’mon. I have to give you an IV.”

Scowling, she sits back down.

“How often does this happen?” Felicity asked, curious to how accident prone her friend was.

“More often than any of us would like.” Eobard says in the doorway, elbows on his knees, watching Hannah with knowing eyes.

“Yeah, well, I’m learning to fight as fast as I can but the Arrow is pretty strict on when I get training.” Hannah looks away from Caitlin as her elbow is prepped, gritting her teeth. “May as well promise to stop taking hits when I fall in love with the Man in Yellow.”

“Or Leonard Snart.”

Hannah startles at the accusatory tone Barry welds, looking up to see him stood behind Eobard, arms crossed. Hurt is in his eyes and anger presses his lips flat.

Hannah huffs. “That’s even more unlikely.”

“Then what was that back there?” He demands.

Hannah looks away, rolling her eyes. “It was _banter_. Same thing as when I confronted Nimbus and Woodward.”

“That wasn’t banter. That was _flirting_.” Felicity asserts, tone admonishing. “And he returned it. Very strongly.”

Hannah swallows, suddenly more uncomfortable than she is in pain. “Can you guys not gang up on me? No one died.”

“Yes,” Eobard agrees. “But that may not be the case next time because of your… _infatuation_ … with the man. He is a killer.”

Hannah can’t help the laugh she lets out, closing her eyes as tears prickle them. She blames them on the needle even though she’d been too preoccupied to notice. “And a criminal. And a liar. And he hurts people. And robs them. I know. I’m not letting it get in the way.”

It’s quiet. Everyone seems to have let it go. Then Barry adds, quietly, darkly, “But you let him get away.”

She glares at Barry and he steps back at the forcefulness of it. “That usher _died_ in the original timeline and Snart still got away!” She snaps, voice raising. “If _anything_ , I’m doing things better! So cut the shit on the interrogation you’re giving me. I saved a man’s life today.” She stops herself short of adding, _When was the last time you did that?_

Hannah stands, ripping the IV out and pressing her thumb to it. Felicity’s pretty face morphs into deep concern and shame, Caitlin look chastised and to have swallowed a lemon. Hannah doesn’t look at Barry or Eobard. She snatches up her mask and barges past Caitlin and Felicity’s grabbing hands, slides past Eobard, and sharply shoulders Barry away. She heads for the Pipeline. Cisco, having sat in the Cortex, watches her go with worry painted clear across his face.

“Where are you going?” Caitlin demands.

“Away from you all since you don’t fucking trust me enough to do this fucking job!”

She disappears around the corner, down to the door where she punches in the code to open the lock. Barry has followed, aiming to talk, but his phone goes off with Captain Singh’s ringtone and he grimaces. Hannah doesn’t look back as he turns away, allowing the door to close after her.

* * *

Hannah sits on the floor, checkerboard set up, mask back on. Half of her red pieces are to the side and most of Clyde’s black ones are kings. Clyde and her have played three rounds and he’s won them all. They’ve not shared many words but he did ask for her to retell the story of Fionn Mac Cumhaill again. She had declined and he’d grumbled but let it go.

“Not that one.”

Both jump at Cisco’s voice and Hannah drops her checker piece back down. She looks up at him, espression guarded. “What?”

“He’ll take that piece.” Cisco tells her. “The one in the left corner has a triple jump.”

Hannah looks down at them and, sure enough, it does.

“That’s cheating!” Clyde declares.

Cisco shrugs. “Hannah needs the win.”

Clyde doesn’t say anything, allowing Hannah the move. He points to the black piece nearest to the red one she had just moved. “One space forward.”

Hannah moves it and she jumps it right away.

“Does Cait still wanna do the CAT scan?”

Clyde’s eyes dart up, searching her for injury. Hannah points to her back and he grimaces. Cisco watches in quiet fascination.

“No. We can see the bruising is clearing up from your back from the cameras. Does your spine still hurt?”

“No.” Hannah looks over the board, waiting for Weather Wizard’s next move. “It stopped an hour ago.”

Cisco looks over Hannah, with her hair hanging around her face in a fluffy, attractive mess, created from a mix of always having her hair in a ponytail and being windblown. Cisco wasn’t attracted to her, but understood why Barry was. Why maybe even Snart was.

With a sigh, Cisco sits down beside her, watching as the two played their game. The triple he had pointed out had given Hannah a slight edge to Clyde, changing their numbers from 8 black and 4 red pieces to an equal number. Her only disadvantage now was that Clyde’s remaining pieces were kings.

“What is it?” Her eyes are on the board, debating her next move. Cisco wonders if its to also avoid seeing what look he may be giving her.

“They shouldn’t have done that to you,” Cisco says. He watches her shoulders tense, the way they relax a moment later. “You said that Snart wouldn’t distract you and they should have believed you.”

Hannah exhales sharply. Careful to not disturb her or the game, he wraps his arm around her waist, avoiding where the worst of the bruising lingered. He gives a brief squeeze to her middle and Hannah leans into his shoulder, moving her furthest to the right piece forward. Clyde asked her to move one of his kings back, planing to box her in.

“You didn’t stop them,” Hannah points out, allowing Clyde to box her in. He realizes he can’t jump her piece now and Hannah smirks. She jumps a king, taking it. Her red piece becoming a queen. The weather in his cell becomes more humid in the meta-human’s nervousness.

“I’m sorry.” It is sincere. Hannah doesn’t have to look to tell Cisco means it. “I didn’t know what was happening until you started shouting, but that doesn’t change the fact it happened.”

“The Flash was shouting?” Clyde drawls in an attempt to hide his nervousness. He tsks. “So unruly of you.”

“Clyde…” Hannah rolls her eyes with a heavy sigh.

He smirks at his enemy. “Your turn.”

“I will kick your ass, Mardon.”

He grins, rising to her taunt. “Only if you let me out. And even then it’s only if Hell freezes over.”

“It did once already,” she reminds brightly and he groans.

Hannah moves her middle red piece forward, jumping the two black kings and turning it into a queen. He startles at the move.

“Hey!”

Hannah laughs at the criminal’s indignation. “You _did_ win three times.”

Clyde rolls his eyes. “Whatever.”

Hannah leans out of Cisco’s hold, beginning to stack the little chips and fold up the board. “I need a nap so we’ll play again later. Or watch a movie. Or something. I dunno. We play checkers too much.”

“Uno?”

Hannah makes a face but agrees. “You can’t ruin the cards like last time.”

“You guys play Uno?” Cisco asks, helping Hannah stand with a hand on her elbow. “How?”

“He stands against the wall, I put his half of the pull deck in, and we play. It also keeps me from cheating.” Hannah shrugs. “Honestly, if you’d hurry on those Meta-cells and chuffs at Iron Heights, where it's more humane, we could play in person.”

“More likely for me to throw the deck in your face if it was in person.” Clyde calls after them.

Hannah shrugs at that, not at all bothered by the idea. Though it _would_ hurt her feelings.

“Want to go get ice-cream?” Cisco asks when they’re back in the Cortex. Caitlin and Felicity aren’t around and Barry is still at the crime scene, looking over evidence.

Hannah nods, not feeling able to say so.

* * *

Hannah has changed into jeans and a brown fold over cardigan, hair back up in a low ponytail. The red of her lips has been rubbed away until only a light stain remains. It makes her look different, but that _is_ the point. Being recognized as the Flash would ruin her anonymity, which she has a lot of as a woman from another universe.

She sucks at the chocolate milkshake, watching with Cisco as people pass around them. Neither talk much when they come to get ice cream or milkshakes, preferring to people watch in the park.

“You really like Snart, right?”

Hannah looks down her straw into the chocolatey mess. “Yeah.”

Cisco nods. He smiles a little. “Win him to our side.”

“That's a bit hard to do.”

“No, it isn’t.” He turns to Hannah, nudging her. “You know the most about him. Use that.”

Hannah rolls her eyes, sighing. “Cisco, that wouldn’t endear him to me. Like, at all. He’d have to open up himself. Besides, like the others say, he’s a killer, the villain to my hero. Even a friendship wouldn't work out.” Lowering her milkshake to set it on the ground, she adds, “Just leave it, Cisco. It’s better to just make sure he sticks to his deal later on.”

“You guys make a deal?”

“I mean, that’s _supposed_ to happen. It’s what I’m aiming for. It might not.”

She chews on the end of her straw, look pensive. Her voice had kept steady, but Hannah wasn’t the best at hiding her expression among friends, and it was clear the idea of attempting to change Snart settled wrongly in her stomach. The idea of going against what the majority of the team felt seemed to upset her, too, even if the way she’d sounded breathless and free when talking to the thief had been an uplifting change to her typically stagnant mood. Cisco watches her sigh, sip at her liquifying milkshake, and sigh again.

He’s about to ask why she sounded like a Jane Austen movie when she speaks. “I need to get a job.”

“Why?” The idea of her with a regular 9-5 desk job startles him. “Didn’t Dr. Wells say he’d provide whatever you needed, like food, clothes, even frivolous stuff?”

“Yeah, but it’s too Sugar Daddy-ish for my tastes.” Hannah huffs out even as Cisco chokes on air at the idea of his Dr. Wells being a sugar daddy. “And it doesn’t feel right buying lipstick and eyeliner with someone else's money. That stuff gets expensive.”

“If you buy the expensive stuff.”

“Or buying it in general.” Hannah points out. “So I need a job. My money for my food, clothes, movie tickets, makeup, and maybe even my own place eventually.”

“Hard to get without an identity.”

Hannah scowls in agreement. “I could probably get Felicity and the Arrow to help. Probably. He can be annoyingly self-righteous at times.”

Cisco nods. “I mean, I’m sure if you asked nice enough he’d cave.”

“I could _try_ but it’s–”

Whatever she is going to say is lost by his phone going off. Hannah stumbles to a halt a few seconds after it begins to ring and he checks it, a delayed response to sound that she wasn’t ever going to get rid of even with her superspeed.

Cisco answers the phone with a quiet, “‘Ello?”

“We need you and Hannah back at the Labs.” Caitlin says, loud enough to be heard.

Cisco and her share glances. Hannah throws her milkshake into the nearby trashcan and stands. “Ready to run?”

“Yeah, just,” Cisco is quickly sucking down his strawberry milkshake, mumbling out more, “hold on, wait, gimme a—”

He finishes, grimacing against a headache. “Okay,” he slurs. “Lessgo.”

“You should have thrown it away.” Hannah tells him, grabbing Cisco’s wrist. “It’s not settled in your stomach yet.”

He opens his mouth to retort but, using her strength, she spins him closer to her, grabbing him around the waist. He yelps in surprise. “Oh well!” She chirps, and drops the hand on his wrist to bend at the knees and grip him under his own, lifting him up into her arms. Startled, he tosses his arms around her shoulders, gripping her sweater tightly. “We’ve got places to be!”

“Hold on a second!”

She takes a couple jaunty steps forward, as she always does because running flat out was too jarring, and picks up speed. Cisco has hidden in her shoulder, ill by the speed and the way the buildings and cars blur around them. She passes past the gates around STAR Labs and is in the Cortex in barely a blink.

A 30 minute walk reduced to a 30 second run. It leaves her jittery to run more.

But she has a green faced Cisco in her arms.

She sets him in a seat and grabs a trash can, shoving it into his lap right as he throws up. He heaves and then throws up again. She rubs his back. She retrieves a bottled water from the kitchen and hands it to him between him sitting up and pushing his hair back.

“I told you that you shouldn’t have.” Hannah says with exasperation. “Did it taste like milkshake?” Still a little green as he swigs water around in his mouth, Cisco nods slowly. Hannah raises an eyebrow. “Won’t do that again soon, huh?”

He spits the water into the trash can and takes a long sip, chugging at least half the bottle before breathing and answering. “Okay, yeah, I won’t.” After a pause, he grins, “But worth it.”

Hannah shoves his shoulder and he laughs. The mirth pops when he meets Caitlin’s stern gaze. He gets sets the trash can aside and stands. “What did you need?”

“I’m sorry,” Caitlin says, looking Hannah directly in the eyes. The superhero stiffens. Caitlin hands are up, fiddling with them, unsure of how to express forgiveness. “For how I reacted earlier. It wasn’t mature of me, especially when you’ve shown in the past that you are only ever trying to protect the city and save lives. I don’t expect you to accept this apology, or forgive me for jumping to conclusions, but I wanted you to know I was sorry.”

Hannah’s hands curl into her cardigan’s sleeves, swallowing coal hot hurt. Then she meets Caitlin’s eyes that beg for understanding and forgiveness.

“I accept your apology.”

Caitlin stands there, still for a moment longer, then her tensed stance eases. Her shoulders droop, hands falling to her sides. She comes closer, inspecting Hannah, relief blatant. Then turns her gaze to Cisco, more shrewd as she inspects him. “I think there’s some ginger ale if you wanna drink it. Should help some.”

He waves her away, walking past to grab his tablet. “I’ll be fine. I need to finish up the tracker for the cold gun anyway.”

Hannah watches him go. Then turns to Caitlin. “Where’s the others? You said ‘we’.”

“Saying ‘we’ made it more urgent.” Watching the way Hannah deflates, Caitlin carefully reaches out to lay a hand on Hannah’s shoulder. “I don’t know about Dr. Wells, he left right after you did, but Felicity and Barry seemed pretty appalled at themselves after what they’d done.”

 _But you let him get away,_ Barry had said, an odd amount of jealousy present in the accusation. She had not seen his face when she’d left, not been able to see how he’d felt after she had begun shouting. Hannah didn’t want to know, felt if she did it wouldn’t be good.

Her having a crush was fine. She could ignore it, not let it get in the way. But if someone had a crush on _her_ and they were obvious about it… it was harder to brush off, harder to ignore, harder to imagine there wasn’t an uncomfortable addition underlying every conversation.

“I’d rather hear it from them.” Hannah tells Caitlin. There is a swell of want, the need to hold someone and be held, the comfort of touch craved and she asks, unsure, “Can I, uh, can I hug you?”

Caitlin hesitates for a moment, weighing the pros and cons, then agrees with a nod of  her head. “Sure, yes.”

Hannah hugs her like she does Cisco, arms around the woman’s slim waist, chin resting on Caitlin’s shoulder, leaning in. Caitlin finds herself leaning in after the initial shock of the touch. Hannah doesn’t squeeze her but there is a brief pressure as though being pressed into, the shorter woman’s shoulders hitching before relaxing. Hannah exhales, deep and restful, a sound Caitlin had heard for nine months as Hannah slumbered, interspersed with tiny snores and long bouts of quiet breathing.

Hannah pulls back slowly, savoring the touch.

“What was that for?”

“I’m really touch-starved and stressful situations result in me needing to either be hugged or given the chance to let off steam.”

“We have a treadmill.”

“I,” Hannah ducks her head, face burning, “I like to _sing_. And this place echos like a horror movie.”

Caitlin blinks, opens her mouth. Then she nods once. “You _do_ hum and dance around an obscene amount and sometimes you’ll just burst into song, just because one of us says something from a song lyric.”

“That is annoyingly accurate and I am offended.”

That makes Caitlin laugh and Hannah thinks of it as a win. The bioengineer then motions to the hallway, leading Hannah down to the game room.

“So, I’m guessing you didn’t notice since you haven’t been taking advantage if it.” Caitlin flips open a cabinet, pointing at the machine inside. From it branched dozens of wires and on the door were labelled buttons. She presses the pink one with a gold star sticker on it and another cabinet three down opens up, revealing a karaoke machine.

“We prefer going out to bars for karaoke,” Caitlin explains in the stunned silence, “but since you can’t drink, or get drunk once you legally can drink, and thus participate in our drunk singing, we can do karaoke here. It has over nine-thousand songs and Cisco updates it every four months or so.” Hannah turns to look at her and Caitlin laughs again at her expression. “You can use it.”

“I will.” Hannah assures. “I just… _whoa_.”

Caitlin gives a small half-smile at the girl’s reaction. “Come find me when you’re unstressed.”

“Totally.” Hannah promises, already distracted with looking through the thousands of songs. _Is Sara Bareilles in here?_ and a few moments later she grins, having found her answer.

Caitlin is long gone when Hannah chooses the song and begins to hum along with the acapella opening as directed. Of course, her eyes are closed. This is one song she knows better than even her own heart. She allows herself to be carried off, to dream of another place and time, with no superpowers and no villains, no nine month comas or evil Speedsters in disguise.

 _Once upon another time, before I knew which life was mine, indeed,_ Hannah thinks when the semi-long break starts and all she must do is hum. She can feel the tension draining from her body as she enjoys herself, sinking deep into another time from this one.

She’d give anything to text Noemi, to ask about her day. She’d ask Amber to hang out. See what Stacey was up to. Find out whether her, Bailey, Bella, and Hayley could meet up for an afternoon of laughter.

Hannah chokes on the word “free” instead of carrying it for a few, long moments. She hiccups out a tiny sob and sets down the mic.

There are no tears, she long ago dried those up, but still she mourns her past and regrets the song choice.

She shuts off the karaoke machine, cutting off the music abruptly. She begins to put everything away, intent on leaving the room as she’d found it.

“If only I could go ahead and find out where Snart is. Get this all out of the way.” Hannah grumbles. “But it's not like there’s any cameras on him.”

Hannah pauses, mulling over those words. Then says with finality, “I’m a dumbass.”

She enters the Cortex in a flurry of papers Caitlin uselessly grabs for. Hannah uses her speed to catch them and set them down with a paperweight. She grins at Caitlin.

“Get Felicity here. Stat.”

Caitlin does just that, remembering that Hannah comes from another time and place that gives her knowledge of this world. Hannah paces meanwhile, thinking over how she may be able to avoid the theft of the Khandaq diamond _and_ the derailment of the train if they move fast enough, if they’re far enough ahead of Snart. It excites her, knowing she may beat the thief at his own game, that she can avoid the threat to so many lives.

Cisco comes in shortly before Felicity, proudly displaying his finished tracker for the cold gun. Hannah beams at him.

“Perfect!”

“Uh,” thrown by the vitality of the statement, “yeah.”

Hannah spins to Felicity. “Can you hack into the cameras of the museum and the train stations?”

“Of course. Why?”

“Snart has two places he’s going at some point: the museum for the diamond and the train station to get away, and challenge me if I can’t stop the theft early enough.”

Felicity knew Hannah wasn’t from their Earth because Oliver had said so but seeing the woman in action, drawing on events yet to happen, really cemented it.

“Okay then.”

“Hack away, Overwatch.” Hannah tells Felicity and the woman heads to her computer, fingers flying over the keyboard and screen as she accesses the correct channels.

“The tracker needs the city satellites right?” Hannah turns to Cisco, hazel eyes backlit by excitement and knowledge.

“Y-yeah.”

“Okay. How long will it take?”

“Thirty minutes, at least?”

“Send me the code, I can do it in one.” Felicity calls and Cisco laughs, “Alright.”

Felicity has the various cameras up on the screen. The museum has already been attacked, guards missing and the front door shattered with puddles of melted ice around it. But the only activity at the trains are of passengers getting on and off, with no sight of a dark blue parka according to Hannah’s quick checking. Cisco leans over the computer center, pulling up the tracker information.

“He’s already in and out,” Cisco calls as Hannah moves to suit up, leaving her mask off, settled in her hands. “Heading for the station on Vineyard Boulevard.”

“I’ll need directions there.” She tells him, hoping she can head the thief off at the pass. “Try and get me there before him.”

“I’ll try.” Cisco swears. “Now go. You got this.”

Bubbly, contagious confidence fills her, jump starting her adrenaline. With a bouncy step to prepare, slipping her mask on, she takes off. She rushes past Barry right after he opens the door, ruffling his hair and clothes. He turns to watch her, mesmerized, but she’s already gone.

Cisco directs her down busy lanes and empty alleys, giving her the fastest route he can find. And still she hears him curse. “He’s already there!”

Hannah takes a preparatory breath. “Then it’s no use,” she tells the team. “I might need you guys. If I can’t stop him in time he’s going to derail the train and I’m gonna give my all to save everyone. I need you to watch my back.”

“Stop talking and start doing.” Cisco orders. “We’ll be there.”

She blows into the train station and people make way. “Everyone!” She shouts, “Stay off the trains! There’s a bomb on board!”

That gets people scrambling for the exits, and those who were boarding turn tail and fleeing from the trains. Hannah passes them all, skipping and spinning to avoid people as they rush to get past. And nowhere in the chaos does she see Leonard Snart.

“He’s on board isn’t he.”

It isn’t a question because Hannah already knows it. She knows there are people on those trains and he has the diamond and she _will_ make the effort to get it back. She will prove herself to him as a worthy adversary and prove to the team she can look past her attraction.

She needs their trust if she’s ever to get home and so Hannah boards the train, eyes sparkling behind her mask.

“Leonard Snart, I will stop you.” She declares, facing him down. “Hand over the diamond now.”

He smirks, fighting down a grin. “I didn’t notice how _young_ you look,” he says instead. “You’re just a kid.”

“You know what they say about assumptions and asses, _Lenny_.” She snarks back.

The smirk drops off his face as the train pulls out of it’s station. He rocks, swaying in a way that meant he’d only have moved if he wanted to. Leonard Snart, Hannah knew well, did not do anything he had not planned to do in the first place. Hannah stands rooted to the floor, locked in place. She is waiting his next taunt, his next move, ready for the train crash but unsure if he will do it.

She can feel the Speed Force under her skin, threading its way through her veins, thick and unyielding. It was ready just as she was. Leonard Snart wasn’t a real threat until she’d used that nickname. He wasn’t someone to fear until then.

“Sorry to tell you this, kid, but I think you need to cool your heels.”

His hand lifts and slows down in its arc. Her breath leaves in a slow, slow exhale as she realizes what he had planned to do, as his finger squeezes the trigger. She jumps backwards, dodging the spear of ice as it buries itself in the floor, landing in a crouch. Metal twisting and turning brittle scrapes unpleasantly against her ears and not for the first time she’s glad this gift of speed has practically negated her audio processing issues.

_Fuck, note to self: Don’t call him “Lenny”!_

“Not up to taking a break?” He taunts again. She can’t see his eyes but imagines they are brittle as the floor, blue an icy storm. There is a pounding in her ears from the chill in his tone, the way all friendliness was gone. “Things going too slow for you?”

“Hannah?” Cisco calls softly in her ear and Hannah realizes the pounding is her _heart_. She’s terrified.

She can’t allow herself to be.

Hannah stands up from her crouch, pushing down that terror. “Hand over the diamond and I’ll let you walk away,” she orders, “as slow as you please.”

“Hm.” Snart tilts his head, seeming to contemplate the idea. He bares his teeth in a facsimile smile, eyes glittering as he says, “No.”

His aim, poised at her, drops down between his feet and he shoots clean through the floor into the underbelly of the traincar, icing over the wheels. She makes an aborted sound of despair, shouting, “ _Why!_ ”

It wasn’t the word Hannah had wanted to use but it was fitting for who she was. Snart opens the train door, giving a two finger wave far too chipper for what he’s done and a cruel “good luck!” He jumps and Hannah raises her hands as fists, shaking them in aggravation before she closes her eyes. She breathes in deep, drinking in the heady rush of power before opening her eyes. If she could see them, the forest green would be electric, bright as sunlight, brown a near molten gold.

She exhales and takes off, moving from the empty train car forward, looking for passengers. There is no one in the connected one, but a family of three is in the following, sleeping, waiting for their stop. She grabs the toddler from the mother’s lap as the sound of crunching metal- a thunderclap she can’t think on- and runs from the train to set him down. She goes back for the mother and then the wife, far enough that the crash wouldn’t injure them. She removes an elderly man, a couple of teens, and a man before rushing to the other end and saving a woman with two caged cats, a boy no older than five clinging to his brother’s side, and an assortment of business men and women going home for the weekend.

Hannah returns one more time, just to check under seats, just to make sure she’s not missed anyone, and finds she’s exhausted when finally discovering the entire train is empty.

Barely escaping out the back as the final car plows into the other four ahead of it, she’s thrown far by the blast radius. Her side blooms with searing hot agony, a numbness on the edges that implied nerve damage. Hannah gasps for breath, choking on pain, the wound throbbing.

She manages to sit up and finds a long, large thin piece of glass shrapnel has speared her side, ruining the tri-polymer blend (Cisco would be _so_ pissed.) and soaking it with blood that was warm, seeping out and coating her side.

“Fuck!” Is all she manages before bitter cold slams her back to the ground. Black spots swim in her vision, the pain of being impaled traded for the cutting frigidity of her midsection being encased in a block of absolute cold.

Leonard Snart glides forward, picking each step through the metal carnage with precision. Hannah shudders in the cold, feeling her lips turn blue. She clenches her eyes against black spots, focusing on using what remained of her energy to beginning vibrating her middle, attempting to thaw the ice.

“You’re pretty…” Her eyes fly open right before he finishes, “fast, kid. But not fast enough.”

Hannah scoffs, lifting a hand to flutter over her iced middle. It hurts in a numbing way which undoubtedly isn’t good.

“I figured out your weakness, you know.” He says, conversationally, in no rush with her pinned down, his gun aimed at her, wreckage all around them that blocked their meeting from view. “You saved the guard, all those people at the theater and especially that usher, and tonight with a near empty train. Empty because you said there was a bomb.” Snart takes a moment, mulling over what he should say and it’s déjà vu all over again. “I should thank you.”

“Why?” She rasps, wishing Cisco and Caitlin would hurry up.

“You forced me to up my game, Ruby.” His head gives a minuscule tilt towards his weapon. Hannah ignores the blip of pride at having a nickname that wasn’t ‘Scarlet’. “Not _only_ with the gun, but with how I think about the job. It’s been _very_ educational.”

“Drop it!”

Hannah shudders, biting back a sob of relief at Cisco’s voice. She can see past Snart to her friends, Cisco holding up the LED’d vacuum. He glared down the thief, Felicity, Caitlin, and Barry just as stone faced.

“This is a prototype cold gun. Four times the size, four times the power.”

_Oh thank you Cisco._

“I was wondering who was helping you.”

“ _Hey!_ ” Cisco’s tone is new, low and raw. If she didn’t know him so well she’d think him just as dangerous as Snart. “Unless you want a taste of your own medicine,” his voice drops further, darkening, taking a half-step forward that definitely took more balls than brains, “ _I’d back the hell up._ ”

Snart shifts his head to side-eye Cisco. “Your hands are shaking. You’ve never killed anyone.”

“Good time to practice then, isn’t it, Captain Cold.” Cisco egged on, hefting the vacuum up, shifting his grip so it was more secure. She watches Snart suppress a grin, head tilted back in delight at the nickname. “Now back. Away. From her.”

“Fine.” Snart shifts his finger from the trigger, lifting his arm to rest the gun against his shoulder. “You win.”

Cisco follows, the others turning to watch Snart walk away. The ice around her middle finally melts away and she drops to the ground, ignoring the lance of heat when the glass spear moves. “Leave the diamond!”

“Don’t push your luck.”

Hannah pushes up onto her elbows, shouting after, “See you around, Lenny!”

He stops, and she can see Cisco breaking into a cold sweat before Snart replies, “See you, Ruby.”

After he disappears into the smoke, distant footsteps faded, the trio set down the vacuum and rush to her. Felicity and Barry help her sit up as Caitlin checks her over. “You’re healing factor should stop the blood flow, but we need to warm you up first.”

Cisco sets down the vacuum’s hose.

“I—”

“‘Couldn’t have shot him even if I wanted to.’” Hannah finishes, bleary eyed. Everything isn’t as clear as it should be. “It’s the vacuum cleaner.” She grins at Cisco. “Thank you, Cisco.” Then she holds up a hand, pointer finger held up. “I’m going to pass out now.”

And, very promptly, eyes rolling backwards, Hannah does so.

* * *

Several days and many hours of eagle-eyed watch from a worried Cisco and Caitlin, Hannah is back in Star City. She’s done her best against Oliver, and cussed up a storm when he assigned the salmon ladder to her because her “upper arm strength was shit.” (A bold-faced _lie_ , the asshole. Most of her strength was there. Or, more accurately, _had_ been.)

“Felicity told me about your altercations with Snart.” Oliver says when their training concludes for the night. Hannah is sore, tired, and hungry, but she has done well tonight. Even Oliver had taken a second to praise her growth.

“If you’re going to tell me not to fraternize with the enemy,” Hannah huffs, cutting off what she was saying as she chugs the last of her water. Sweat slicks her skin, tank top and training bra clinging in places that made her itch. Her workout shorts are riding up into her ass crack despite the boyshorts she wore meant to keep it from happening. “I’m pointing out you banged the Huntress, even after she revealed she was evil. _And_ I wasn’t affected by Snart, just following the plot.”

Oliver sighs, shaking his head. “I _wasn’t_.” Hannah raises an eyebrow and the archer rolls his eyes. “You have your head on your shoulders. A lot more than me or Barry, I’ll admit. You know what’s coming up, but even when things go awry you take the time to think ahead.”

“How do you know that?”

“Felicity told me about after the train derailment. You calling Snart out and forcing him to let you call him Lenny.” Oliver walks over to a cluttered desk, moving files around. “Smart, I have to admit. It puts you on even footing since he calls you Ruby. Too friendly, for my tastes, but you know how to use nicknames as a weapon, even if you don’t want to admit it.”

From the mess he pulls out a bulky envelope. He walks over to her and holds it out.

“What’s this?” Hannah takes it gingerly, feeling the heaviness, pulling the little metal prongs up to open the flap. She slides the contents forward until a bundle of money and cards held together by a rubber band falls into her hands. The card on top is a driver’s license with her full name and an address in Star City. Her throat clogs up. “I… I…”

Her eyes dart back to Oliver, to the man who has suffered so much and still managed to be good. Her lip trembles, eyes burning. He looks vaguely uncomfortable under her intense, wet-eyed scrutiny.

“I know you plan on going home but figured, from how you talked about hating you relied on Thawne and his money, that you wanted a way out. So…” He motions to the items. “I got this together for you. It was really–”

He’s cut off when she launches all 200 pounds of herself at him, squeezing him tightly. He reeks of man and dirt but Hannah can’t care too much, shuddering against him.

“You don’t have to hug me.”

“You deserve it.” Hannah chokes out, and squeezes once more before pulling back. She wants him to feel positive touch and not just the violence they do to each other and what he experiences at the hands of his enemies. “Christ, Oliver. You say we aren’t friends and then you do this. This is something friends do, dammit.”

“We aren’t friends.”

There is the ghost of a smile around his mouth, eyes soft like when he speaks to Thea. She rubs at her eyes to brush away tears, saying, “Liar. Thank you, Oliver.”

She helps him put things back in order and changes into her sweatpants before her run home. She stops as she enters downtown Central City when her stomach growls. She doesn’t feel like taking the time to make something in the kitchen and there is a DC universe famous bar nearby…

Hannah takes a second to fix her hair and shirt, check her pocket for the money Oliver had given her, and looks for Saints and Sinners.

At 1am, the bar is at its peak time with rows of bikes outfront and people coming in and out, but Hannah doesn’t mind the crowd. She makes her way to the door, excited to order something greasy and insanely unhealthy, when her eye catches on the sign in the window.

_Help Wanted! Full-Time and Part-Time Positions! Starting Wage 10/hr with tips._

Hannah swears to Cerridwen she lives a troupe-filled life now. But man does she want that job.

Mourning it meant going back to the Labs for a shower and change of clothes before food, Hannah turns and does just that.

* * *

Noemi runs after the woman Stacey and her had tracked down, shouting, “Wait!”

The woman turns a corner and Noemi follows, picking up speed as she sees the dead end coming up. The woman turns, tall and dark, hair a wild mane. Her eyes are fierce.

Noemi stumbles to a stop, bending at the knees to gasp on air. She lifts her face to look at the psychic.

“You weren’t supposed to follow me, Noemi.” The woman, Mia Clearwater, says in a liquid cool tone. “It’s not time for you yet. But I guess it can’t be helped.”

Noemi straightens up. “What do you mean?” In the ensuing silence, she demands, “Answer me!”

Violet eyes gleam. “You’ll know soon enough.” Her eyes slide past to someone else. “Lorne, could you…?”

Noemi whips around, reaching for pepper spray as she meets the eyes of a short, stocky woman. Her hair is long and thin, black like dried ink. She raises her hands, violet eyes glowing in the waning daylight.

“So sorry, dear.” Lorne tells Noemi, sincerely, French accent thick. “But we must keep things in order.”

Noemi takes an aborted step back, terror seizing her. “Please don’t kill me.”

Lorne laughs gently. “Of course not! I’m just sending you where you need to be.” Lorne smiles sweetly. “Stacey will follow shortly.”

“Don’t you dare—!”

She takes a step forward but is stopped by a hand on her arm yanking her back. Another shoves down into the pocket of her scrubs and Noemi spins to lash out at Mia. The psychic dodges easily and steps out of range. The world tilts on its axis for Noemi and she stumbles to the ground, stomach pushing up into her throat. She heaves, lunch and dinner going all over the pavement. She gasps, coughs, and there are footsteps approaching.

“Ma’am, are you okay?”

The voice is familiar, one she had heard over and over again on the TV, rewinding scenes over and over again on Netflix. Noemi lifts her head and stares Barry Allen, the CSI and almost Flash, in the eyes. Hope and fear swells in her chest.

Hot tears slide down her face, dripping off her jaw onto her hands. Chin trembling, she begs hoarsely, watching the surprise spread over the man’s face, “Can you take me to Hannah?”


End file.
